


Ten to Twenty

by llyrical



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AKA i wanted a fic where chara and asriel grow up to rule over the underground, Agender Chara, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dissociation, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Pre-Undertale, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Spoilers - No Mercy Route, Suicide Attempt, it's not all as sad as what the tags make it sound, those are all just the normal chara things yknow, unreality issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-08 03:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5480984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llyrical/pseuds/llyrical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asriel is a light in the dark. A flash of color in your otherwise monochromatic world.</p>
<p>You don't deserve him. </p>
<p>
  <i>A what-if-they-didn't-die AU where Chara and Asriel grow up together.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ten

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I think a lot about Asriel and Chara, y'know, NOT dying, and actually growing up to rule over the Underground. So this is that! Kinda. It chronicles their lives together growing up. 
> 
> This is going to be eleven chapters and I'm going to try to post one every day since I'm on break, but that may change with busy holiday schedules and everything. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Obviously there are big trigger warnings on this fic, as there are on most fics related to Chara at all. I'll try to put them in the chapter notes. 
> 
> This chapter's warnings include **suicide attempts, bad injuries, and self-loathing. ******

**10.**

Pain. 

You’re no stranger to pain. Your whole world has been pain for as long as you can remember. 

But this is different. A sharp throbbing in your leg, constant and screaming agony that is impossible to ignore, unlike the numbness of the dull throbbing you’ve experienced since you were big enough to walk. Your vision is black and spotty from how much pain you’re in, or maybe you hit your head harder than you realized. You’re trembling so hard trying to reach your leg that it barely registers when you realize that a fragment of bone has pierced through the skin. 

The scream leaves your lips before you realize what you’re doing. For a moment, you forget why you climbed the mountain. You don’t think about wanting to die. The human body’s natural urge for self-preservation kicks in and you whimper, “ _Help me._ ”

But nobody comes.

You’re there for a while, bleeding out onto the cold stone of the rocks you’ve fallen on. How could this happen. How could you mess up _dying._

Eventually, you hear the distant sound of chatter and footsteps. You’re not sure whether you’re just delusional or whether there’s actually somebody coming for you, but you scream out for help once more anyways. 

There are footsteps approaching you as your vision fades entirely. A high-pitched but gentle voice asking you if you’re alright as something soft brushes against your face. 

You can’t force your eyes open, but you make a pained noise. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, stay with me, okay? We’re going to get you help.” You have to be dead. There’s no way that this is actually happening. There’s nobody else underground. 

“Just listen to my voice, alright?” You make a noise. “Come on, help is on the way. Try and stay awake. What’s your name?”

The question grounds you a bit. You still can’t force your eyes open- your head is throbbing too hard- but, after choking on coughs a few times, you force out, “Chara.”

“Chara, huh? That’s a nice name.” The voice has a smile in it. “My name is-” 

You lose consciousness.  
\-----

Asriel.

Your savior. 

You _hate_ him.

He’s the reason you’ve been stuck in this damn infirmary for over a week now as you’re healed by what they claim to be _magic._ For some reason, that part is what’s difficult to believe despite the clear fact that the ones performing it are monsters. 

Monsters are easy to believe in. They’re tangible. Magic can’t be for real; you can’t make problems disappear that easily. 

When Asriel and his father Asgore- the king of this underworld, you’d learned- first brought you back to the castle’s infirmary, you’d slept for two days. They hadn’t thought you were going to wake up. 

You’d been drifting in and out of consciousness even as your body slept. You were _hoping_ that you wouldn’t wake up. 

When you first awoke fully, you’d been in a room of monsters. The king and queen- Asgore and Toriel- along with two monster nurses. For a moment, you’d been _sure_ that you were dead. 

But then you felt the pain and knew that you couldn’t be. The pain wasn’t supposed to exist after death. That was why you’d wanted to die in the first place. 

After they calmed you down- an impressive feat, considering your initial jerk had ripped an IV out of your arm and that had only freaked you out more- the king and queen sat down to speak to you. They’d introduced themselves before asking your name, which you’d reluctantly told them. Toriel had repeated it softly to herself with a small smile. 

Obviously, they were much happier about you being there than you were. 

“I don’t want to stay here,” you told them before they could ask you anything else. _I want to be dead._ “How do I leave?”

Toriel’s smile faded slowly. The two monsters exchanged a look. 

“Well, we certainly don’t want to force you to stay here,” Asgore started, “but it’s not exactly… safe… for you to leave the castle right now.”

“Most of the monsters in the Underground aren’t really… _used_ to humans,” Toriel explained. “We don’t know exactly how they’d react to seeing you. It’s best for you to stay for a while until they get acclimated to your presence.” 

You’d been infuriated. You’d argued with them until it became clear that they weren’t budging, for whatever reason. 

After that, you refuse to talk to them when they come in. The first time you officially (consciously) meet their son Asriel, the one who’d brought you here, you glare hard enough that he shrinks back and scurries out of the room. 

You don’t expect to see any more of him, but he returns the next day, albeit a bit sheepishly and approaching you slowly as if you’re a scared animal. He has what looks like a sketchpad clutched in his paws with a pencil stuck through the binding at the top. 

Instead of glaring, you just stare at the items. Asriel lingers awkwardly in the doorway before taking a step inside. 

When he approaches your bed, you snap a panicked look at him. He hurriedly sets the book down at the end of the cot before retreating a few steps. 

“In case you want something to do,” he says simply. He forces a small smile that has you more confused than anything else. 

And that’s all he says before leaving. 

You don’t give in to the temptation until the next day, when you reluctantly find yourself doodling the golden flowers from your village. The only color in a world so far full of bleakness. 

They let you out of the infirmary on day eight. You’re hardly able to walk- your leg had been healed by magic, the bone no longer snapped, but it was tender and sometimes the muscles twitched involuntarily. 

You get a room all to yourself in the castle. You’re surprised to learn that the royal family doesn’t actually really live in the castle itself, but more so in the small house right outside of it that they’d dubbed “New Home.” The castle was only for legal matters, royal events, and housing its staff. 

They apologize for not having an extra room in New Home for you. As if you’re a part of their family. 

You’re invited to eat meals with them in New Home, but you refuse. Your stomach is doing somersaults and you don’t know if it’s a result of the magic or just your nerves. 

You start to feel sick and weak by day twelve and resign to eat dinner with the family. 

It’s not awkward, as you expect it to be. The king and queen talk amongst themselves and with Asriel as casually as always, not ignoring your presence but not forcing you into a conversation. You appreciate it more than they probably realize. 

Asriel keeps sneaking glances at you. You don’t pretend not to notice; instead, you meet his stare, making his white face redden as he hurriedly looks away. 

Eventually, he looks at you and blurts, “How did you fall down here?”

You can tell that he’s just curious, not meaning it as anything accusatory, but you flinch all the same. His dark eyes soften a bit and his face flashes with an apology. 

The chair squeaks loudly against the floor as you stand up. Asgore starts to say something, but Toriel silences him with a hand on his arm and nobody stops you as you practically run back into the castle and to the room somehow designated as yours. 

After that, you take your meals in your room.

You hide in there with the door locked and Toriel leaves plates of food right outside. It usually takes you a few hours to work up the nerve to open the door and take it, and it’s always miraculously still hot when you do. 

It’s by far the best food you’ve ever had. Your stomach doesn’t know how to react to eating so much when you usually go days in between meals. 

By day twenty-two (you’ve been keeping tallies in the sketchbook that Asriel had given to you and had yet to ask for back) you’re a pacing mess, nervous and antsy and practically ripping your own hair out. You only sleep when Toriel uses magic to continue healing you and the side effects make you drowsy. At night, you lay awake and stare at the ceiling as your breath comes out ragged and uneven. 

You can’t sleep in a room so big. Your queen-sized bed is in the center of the room and you’re practically swimming in it. When the lights are out and you can’t see anything, you’re unsettled knowing that there’s so much empty space surrounding you. That you’re so exposed. 

Despite this, you haven’t asked about leaving anymore. 

You’re sure the royal family hasn’t noticed your state of distress. What little they see of you probably has them thinking that you’re doing well- and you are, compared to where you were. You were bony and frail when you’d fallen, and your cheeks had filled out more even just in a few weeks. 

You only ever leave your room to sneak to the bathroom or when you have weekly check-ups with the royal scientist, Dr. Gaster (he’s more of an inventor than a biological doctor, but Toriel had assured you that he knew the most about human biology). Toriel is the only one you let into your room, and that’s only for her to administer healing magic to your leg in hopes of diminishing the aches. 

A breakdown occurs on the night of day twenty-three after hours of futilely trying to sleep. The darkness was unsettling enough that you eventually had to turn the lights on to get your heartbeat to slow down, and you hate yourself for it. You shouldn’t be afraid of the dark. 

None of the monsters down here are afraid of the dark. They’ve lived in it for too long. 

You sit on the edge of your bed with the sheets still made-up perfectly and you pant to yourself, desperately trying to slow your breathing as you run your fingers through your hair over and over and over. _Calm down, Chara. Don’t be a baby._

A traitorous sob forces its way past your lips. Hot tears hit your bare legs past where your pajama shorts end. 

A hesitant knock sounds at the door. 

Your head snaps up. It’s the middle of the night; nobody should be down this corridor. The knock didn’t sound like Asgore’s, which was heavy and loud, or like Toriel’s, which was soft but firm. No, it was more like something in-between, and as the servants knew better than to come to your room _ever_ , it had to be Asriel. 

You’ve heard him wandering the castle halls sometimes at night. Toriel told you that sometimes he has trouble sleeping and likes to go on walks. He had to have heard you. 

You’re too focused on wiping at your eyes with the back of your hands that you forget to tell him not to come in. The door pushes open slowly. 

Before the monster prince can take a step inside, you snap, “Get out.” The words are icy and sharp, and the first things that you’ve said to him other than telling him your name in your pained delusional state, but he doesn’t flinch. 

He doesn’t get out, either. He takes another step inside, and your eyes narrow. 

Your jaw hardens. You’re still trying to steady your breathing, though it’s easier now that you have a distraction. You’re sure that your face is flushed all the way down to your neck from your sobs. 

“It’s okay to cry, you know,” Asriel says with a gentle smile, as if he’d read your thoughts. He shuts the door quietly and your eyes snap towards it. You’re trapped. He takes another step forward. “I cry all the time.” 

“That- that’s because you’re a crybaby,” you answer quickly, though your voice cracks a bit and reveals your hypocrisy. 

Asriel doesn’t take offense, instead laughing at the words. You only glare harder. “Nobody should have to cry. You’re safe here, you know.” 

“I wasn’t crying,” you insist again, though when Asriel takes another step forward you’re sure he can see that your cheeks are redder than usual and that your eyes are puffy. 

He holds up a hesitant paw before stepping even closer. Your mouth goes dry, and when you don’t protest, he sits down next to you on the edge of the bed. You can feel the heat radiating off of him even with the space between you, and you scoot a few inches away until you’re nearly off the bed. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asks. 

You stare at him. Dark eyes- you can’t tell if they’re brown or black, but they’re much darker than Toriel’s amber ones- stare back at you, the slightest hint of a kind smile on his face. 

“No,” you snap quickly, but you lower your eyes- you can’t take that _stare_ , oh my god- and fold your hands over themselves anxiously. Asriel doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes still trained on your shaking form. 

The silence ticks on. There’s a lump in your throat that doesn’t belong there. 

“This room is too big. It’s too quiet at night,” you say eventually. The words are as small as you feel right now. 

From your peripheral vision, you can see Asriel looking curiously around your room. You’re sure it doesn’t seem too big to him- he’s _royalty_. Though from what you’ve seen of New Home, his bedroom isn’t even this big. Toriel had told you that they all liked to stay humble. 

After a few seconds, Asriel speaks again. “We can move another bed into my room,” he suggests. Your eyes snap up. “Then it’ll be like you only have half the space. Plus, I totally snore at night, so it won’t be _that_ quiet.” There’s a twinkle in his eyes and his friendly smile has grown.

You don’t understand. 

You glare at him because you’re sure he’s joking. He’s making fun of you. Why would he be nice to you when you’ve been anything but? He doesn’t even know you. What he does know isn’t good. You’re weird. A freak. Disgusting. Worthless. 

So why is he looking at you like that?

You can feel your glare soften on its own. You’re sure you look confused. Asriel just continues to smile, holding your stare until your glare disappears completely. You open your mouth to speak but then snap it shut. 

Maybe he’s tired of waiting for you to say something or maybe he can just tell that you’re done speaking for the night- how can he read you so well already?- but either way, he gets up and heads for the door. You don’t stop him. 

The next day, you wordlessly begin moving your few belongings into the young prince’s room.


	2. Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's warnings: **referenced suicide attempt, self-loathing.**

**11.**

Asriel is weird. 

It’s just passed a year since you’d first landed in the Underground. You hadn’t intentionally remembered the date, but Toriel had excitedly circled it on a calendar hanging up in New Home and, when the day swung around, eagerly declared it to be your birthday. 

Your actual birthday had been just a few weeks before, but you didn’t say anything. 

Your eleventh birthday was the first one you’d ever celebrated. 

Even after a year of living in the Underground, a year in which you’d only been allowed to leave a few times and always under the strict protection of the Royal Guard, you still couldn’t understand why Asriel was so kind to you. While you’d softened up a bit, finding it impossible to be mean to him when he looked at you like that, you still didn’t go out of your way to be friendly. He always did. 

You two share a room because you can’t sleep in a room so open. He’s doing you a favor. That’s all. 

You still answer most of his questions in brief, sometimes cold statements. But his smile never wavers. Still, he asks if you wants to play games with him (no). Still, he asks if you want help on the “homework” that Toriel assigns you (okay). 

The days pass by quickly but most uneventfully. You and Asriel have lessons in which he pases you notes which you respond to only because you know you’d get scolded for doing so if caught, and the thrill of doing something you’re not supposed to is too good to pass up. When you’re not doing that, you spend most of your time hidden away in your room with a stack of books taken from the library or the sketchbook that Asriel gave you that’s quickly filling up its pages. 

The only visitor you get in the castle is Dr. Gaster. You still have check-ups with him as Toriel still worries about the side-effects of magic on your body. On top of that, he sometimes asks (through quick hand movements that you’re finally starting to understand) if he can examine you for more insight on human biology. At first it’d panicked you, the idea of somebody looking at your body, but he quickly clarified that he was more interested in your SOUL. 

You learned a lot about the mechanics of a SOUL through him. He’s interested in the persistence of yours. Human SOULs persist even after death, he tells you. It makes you wonder what would have happened to your SOUL if you’d died from the fall. 

Needless to say, your visits with Dr. Gaster always leave you thinking too much. 

You want to go out and explore the Underground, but Asgore still deems it too dangerous. You’ve now read enough books on monster history to understand why. Sometime around six months ago, they’d stopped trying to hide from you why it was dangerous for you to be here. 

The monsters needed seven human SOULs in order to break the barrier trapping them underground. It didn’t surprise you at all that the general consensus of most of the Underground was that Asgore should kill you, take your SOUL, and cross the barrier to get another six. 

You don’t understand why he doesn’t. 

It’d created more than a little tension in the Underground. People were mad at the king. They had the solution right in front of them, and he was harboring them- harboring _you_ \- like a criminal. 

“I will not hurt an innocent being,” Asgore always said, each and every time. You don’t think you were supposed to know, but his rallies were always broadcast on TV and sometimes you saw them before Toriel stopped you. 

You wonder what Asgore would think if he knew about your past. If he knew what you’d done to- to _them_. If he knew what you’d been running away from in climbing that mountain. 

Would he still think that you’re innocent? Would he still try so hard to protect you?

Only recently had the protests started to die down. As people saw you out and about in the capital, they seemed to see you as more of a person. Rumors were spreading like rapidfire and the people were calling you the “second royal child.”

You don’t know how to feel about that. 

A knock on the door startles you out of your thoughts. Your head snaps up just as Asriel walks hesitantly into the room, and you roll your eyes. 

“You don’t have to knock,” you tell him for what had to be the hundredth time. “This is your room, too.” 

The young prince just shrugs as he walks to the wardrobe. Your shared wardrobe. While the king and queen had had many outfits tailored specifically to you, you sometimes sneak something from Asriel’s side because you like the smell attached to it when you put it on. Not that you’d ever tell him that. 

Asriel grabs a cloak and swings it on over his clothes. He must be going outside. For a second, you want to ask him if you can come with him. Just to get out of the house. Explore the capital. 

And then you shake off the thought. _We’re not friends,_ you remind yourself, though it gets harder and harder to convince yourself of that as you find yourself hating Asriel’s voice and laugh less and less every day. _I don’t even like him._

It’s such a blatant lie that you’re embarrassed with yourself. 

Asriel pauses at the door, looking back over his shoulder. “Hey,” he says, smiling. “You wanna come with me? I’m going down to the marketplace.”

You startle, wondering not for the first time if Asriel can read your thoughts. 

“No way.” You scoff, trying to make it sound indignant. You roll your eyes for good measure. “I have… uh… _better_ things to do.”

Asriel glances around the room slowly, and you mentally swear. You hadn’t even been reading or doing anything; when he came in, you’d just been lost in thought. Caught in your lie. Your excuse.

“You sure?” he asks. 

_Absolutely,_ you try to say, but your mouth betrays you and snaps closed loudly. 

You stare him down for a long time. You do that a lot, whenever he’s too friendly despite your coldness. 

As always, he doesn’t look away. He just waits expectantly. 

After a long moment, you sigh. “Alright,” you mutter, standing up slowly as if it’s a chore. As always, there’s a dull ache in your lower left leg, a constant reminder of your fall. “I _suppose_ I can hang out with you. But you’d better make it fun.”

Asriel’s look of shock only flashes for a brief second before he’s beaming. “I always do,” he answers confidently. 

You feel your SOUL stirring in your chest.

\-----

Your nightmares come and go. On the nights that they come, you always wake up shaking and screaming. You don’t cry anymore. 

Asriel always crosses to your side of the room and wraps his arms around you and tries to get you to calm down before his parents hear and come running. Almost always, it ends in you lashing out at him before muttering a reluctant apology when you fully return to consciousness. 

Still, he’s always there. Every time. 

Even though you know you freak him out sometimes. A few days ago, you’d wandered into the royal kitchen inside the castle while you and Asriel were playing make-believe. For a moment, you’d forgotten about the game in lieu of grabbing a knife that one of the cooks had left on the counter. You didn’t brandish it as a weapon or even hold it up to Asriel at all, but you could see the blood drain from his face. 

You’d turned the blade over in your small hands, making a mental reminder to come back later. 

But you could tell you’d scared Asriel, so you’d hurriedly put it back and laughed it off. After a while, he laughed it off, too. 

That night, you snuck back to the castle’s kitchen while everybody was asleep. You’d tucked the knife under your shirt just in case anybody caught you wandering around with it. When you returned to your bedroom, Asriel snoring peacefully from his side of the room, you’d tucked the knife between your mattress and the wall. Just to have. Just in case.

Asriel doesn’t suspect a thing.

The days continue to pass regularly. Every day, it seems that you spend more and more time with Asriel. When he asks you to play, you only roll your eyes a little bit. Sometimes, you don’t protest at all.

Asriel usually wakes up long before you in the morning. Your nightmares tend to keep you up through the night, so you end up sleeping in, usually past the time your lessons have started. When it’s a class with Toriel, she usually doesn’t mind- she prefers that you get as much sleep as possible- but for the few lessons that you and Asriel share with some old monster woman or another, you often get scolded. 

You wake up earlier than usual one morning, an aching in your leg distracting enough to pull you out of your sleep. Toriel doesn’t work her magic on you every day, not anymore, but some days the pain is too bad to bear on your own. It makes you anxious; you’re sure that your muscles must have been repaired wrong when you were stitched back together. 

You wander slowly out to the kitchen, limping a bit. Asgore is already off in the castle, you’re sure. You can hear clinking of silverware coming from the kitchen as well as Toriel and Asriel’s voices. 

Eavesdropping isn’t really your thing, but when you hear your name, you pause. 

“-proud of you, my child, I really am,” Toriel is saying, and you frown. You press your back against the wall, inches away from the opening to the kitchen. Either of them could wander out just a few steps and see you listening. “You’ve been such a good friend to them.”

The frown tugs harder at your lips, though you don’t know why. Toriel makes it sound like a chore, and she’s probably correct. 

You expect Asriel to laugh or something, but instead, he replies seriously and without hesitation: “It’s not a problem.” Your eyebrows knit together. “I love them, mom. They’re my best friend.”

You choke out a gasp so loud that you’re surprised that you aren’t caught. 

Asriel _loves_ you? He hardly knows you. Yeah, you’ve slept in the same room every night for a year, and yeah, maybe you’ve told him more about your past then you probably should, but. 

He doesn’t know the things you did. He doesn’t know what kind of person you are. He doesn’t love you. And you’re not friends. 

“I know, dear,” Toriel answers. You can hear the smile in her voice. “I do as well.” 

You run to your room, the pain in your leg momentarily forgotten. You hide under the blankets and pretend to be asleep even when Asriel comes into the room to change out of his pajamas. 

After he’s changed, he quietly says, “Chara?” He’s testing to see if you’re awake. You keep your eyes squeezed shut and make a sleepy sound. 

You hear him approach the bed and he stands over you. It makes you nervous even though you know by know that Asriel would never hurt you. 

A paw reaches out and touches your face just long enough to brush your hair back. You shiver and he freezes. 

You don’t let out the breath you’re holding until Asriel is out of the room.


	3. Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's warnings: **referenced suicide attempt, self-loathing, minor unreality/derealization.**

**12.**

“What’s your surname?” Asriel asks one night. The two of you had pulled all of the blankets off of your beds and attached them to the bedposts to make a fort. You now lounged within it on a pile of pillows. You weren’t touching, but you knew that if you moved your arm just the slightest bit it would brush up against Asriel’s.

The question surprises you, but not in a bad way. You’re a little shocked that it took him this long to ask, though you know that surnames aren’t as big of a deal down here for anybody other than the royal family. You flash your flashlight towards the top of the fort a few times. “I don’t have one,” you answer, voice not giving anything away. You know that Asriel will know what you mean. _I left that behind._

There’s a pause. You hear Asriel turning over on his side to look at you, fur brushing against your arm, but you don’t look at him. 

“You can be a Dreemurr, then,” he answers. He sounds certain and resolute. 

Your mouth goes dry. Immediately, your eyes sting, and you swallow hard and try to ignore it.

When you compose yourself, you sniff, “You’re a cheesy dork.”

Asriel laughs and doesn’t deny it.

You change the subject quickly but your heart is pounding for the rest of the night. 

_Chara Dreemurr._

\-----

A few days later, Toriel gives you two matching green-and-yellow sweaters. 

And maybe you wear yours. So what? It… it doesn’t mean you’re accepting Asriel’s offer to be family. 

… Does it?

\-----

Asgore is training a new member of the Royal Guard. 

She’s young, maybe younger than you. Maybe the same age. You’re not sure. Monsters age differently than humans. 

You’re not sure why she’s getting trained by the king, but you catch them sparring in the garden one day. She’s conjuring spears and shooting them at the king, and the part of you that recognizes Asgore as a father figure panics for the slightest moment before he easily deflects them with a deep chuckle. The fish monster sighs heavily at herself before getting back into position and starting another attack. 

That night, you ask Asgore if he’ll train you as well. 

He refuses. 

“I do not wish to encourage violence among my family, Chara,” he tells you, not looking your way as he pours steaming water into cups. He turns, handing you a mug where the tea is just starting to steep. 

You frown at it. 

“I wish that we did not have to have a Royal Guard at all.” He sighs. “Unfortunately, there are still…” _Riots._ “... acts of unrest.” 

You know. Toriel can’t shield you from the world forever. While the majority of the Underground is okay with you- in fact, most of them like you, seeing you as part of the royal family- there’s still the occasional monster speaking up on why they think your SOUL should be taken. 

The Royal Guard only exists because of you. 

Guilt shifts uneasily in your stomach. 

It isn’t until later that you realize that Asgore referred to you as part of his family. 

\-----

“Dr. Gaster.” 

The skeleton pauses from his work, looking up. 

You’re on a lab table too much like a hospital bed for your liking. Gaster has pulled up a holographic representation of your SOUL, and you’ve been staring at it for a long time. It’s red. You’re told that all human SOULs are different colors, and you feel that there has to be some deeper symbolism behind yours being red. 

You sit up and the hologram flutters before disappearing. Gaster turns his attention fully towards you. 

Deep breath. Slow, unsure hand movements. 

_’Why won’t Asgore take my SOUL?'_

Dr. Gaster watches you, steady expression not wavering. If he’s surprised by your use of sign language- he knows that you’ve learned enough that you don’t need Asriel to translate when he talks to you anymore, but you’ve never directly tried to communicate with him- he doesn’t show it. 

His motions are slow as well, but that’s more for your sake than anything else. 

_’Because you are their family.’_

You lay back down. The hologram pops up again. 

Your SOUL beats in time with your racing heart. 

\-----

“Hey, Chara.”

You pause from your side of the garden where you’re sitting on the cool ground, casually plucking the petals off of a buttercup, and look up. “Hm?”

Asriel’s hands are shoved into the pockets of his shorts and he’s shifting nervously. You frown. 

“How dumb would it be if I gave you a… uh, something… to commemorate our friendship?”

You don’t correct him to sarcastically deny your friendship, and you can tell he’s relieved. Instead, you just train your red eyes on him, cocking an eyebrow. “Pretty dumb,” you agree, but a smile quirks at your lips and gives you away. 

He crosses the distance between you two, skirting carefully around his dad’s plants. When he makes it to you, you push yourself off the ground, placing your hands on your hips and looking at him expectantly. Well, looking _down_ as him, kind of. You’d had a recent growth spurt, almost overnight, and you’re now nearly an inch taller than him. It makes for a lot of good teasing material. 

“Huh, guess you don’t want it, then,” the prince sighs dramatically, staring off at the ceiling of the greenhouse. He hums idly, seeming to force back a smile as he senses your growing frustration. 

“Ugh, just give it to me, dork,” you snap after a minute, but there’s no venom in it. Asriel laughs and pulls something- a necklace of some sort- out of his pocket. He hooks a clawed finger through the gold chain so that the heart dangles below, swinging back and forth slightly. 

You stare at it for a long time before one of your hands leaves your hips to gently grab the locket. Asriel lets go of it once he’s sure you have a good grip on it. 

Your hands are shaking, and you’re sure that Asriel is pretending not to notice (he’d gotten pretty good at that). You use your thumb to flick the latch open to look at the picture inside- a picture of you two that had been taken on the same day that you got your matching sweaters. It was taken at the same time as the family photo that now sits in a frame by your bed. Your main comfort in your room. In the picture, Asriel is smiling, as always, and he’d tickled your ribs right before until you were red-faced and smiling as well.

The gold on the outside is engraved with the words ‘best friends forever.’ Knowing Asriel, he has a matching one. 

You hold the locket gently, as if it might turn to dust if you’re any rougher. You swallow against the lump in your throat and you want to curse when your eyes start to sting. 

You’re all clammy palms and shaky breaths. You angrily think, _Snap out of it, Chara, you’re not a child,_ but you’re more than a little distracted.

Asriel misinterprets your silence and starts to shift nervously against. “I-if you don’t like it, I can-” 

Your arms are around him, your face pressed into the fur of his neck before he can finish his sentence. The last syllable ends with a choked noise as he startles at the sudden contact before belatedly bringing his own arms up to encircle your waist. 

You haven’t done this before and now you’re questioning why. 

“Thank you,” you murmur. You half-hope that the sound will be muffled enough by Asriel’s fur that he won’t be able to tell what you’re saying. 

You pull away as quickly as you’d lunged forward, your fingers making quick work of the clasp to fasten it around your neck. The golden heart is a noticeable weight. When it lands softly against your chest, you beam. 

It’s a big smile. A _real_ smile. 

Something flashes across Asriel’s face before he returns it. 

\-----

You don’t take the locket off, even in the shower. Asriel assures you that it’s real gold and so it won’t rust. 

As you’d suspected, he has one for himself. The same picture is inside of it. 

You know it’s not possible, but you feel like you look happier in Asriel’s picture. 

\-----

When you’re climbing into bed that night, lights already out, Asriel chirps, “Oh, hey, remember to take the locket off.” 

You frown at your ceiling. Your hand clutches at the locket. “No way,” you answer firmly. “I’m never taking it off.”

“Char, you could choke in your sleep,” Asriel protests, a frown in his voice. 

_Good,_ a voice in your head says. You push it back. You don’t need that right now. Right now, you’re happy. 

You don’t respond but make a soft noise as you lay back down. Asriel doesn’t push it anymore. 

You can hear your heart beating against the pillow. _Real_. It’s as real and solid as the golden one around your neck.


	4. Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: **self-harm (pretty graphic, and the main point of the chapter), self-loathing, referenced suicide attempt, suicidal ideation.**

**13.**

It starts innocently enough. Tiny cuts made on the tops of your thighs with the knife you’d taken from the kitchen years before and kept stashed for moments like these, moments when the anxiety overcomes you and won’t disappear until you’ve done something to ground yourself. 

But as the weeks drive on, it’s not enough. It’s never enough. You find that it feels better on the inside of your wrist or even further up your arm. 

You’re lucky that you usually wear long sleeves anyways. You’re unusually cold in a house heated only enough to warm monsters with thick fur, so oversized sweaters with sleeves past your fingertips are nothing new to you. Nothing unusual. Nothing suspicious. 

You aren’t doing it because you want to die, you tell yourself. At least that’s something you’re sure of. You’ve made a semblance of a life down here for yourself. 

The idea still haunts you from time to time, though. That’s why you’d climbed Mt. Ebott in the first place, right? To escape an otherwise inescapable situation. 

But things are different here. You’re loved by the monsters who’d become parents to you. Something you’d never had before. You’ve loved by Asriel, who is like a sibling and a best friend and maybe more but you can never tell what’s a real feeling and what’s a damn hormone. 

But it scares you. Mankind was disgusting. They were the real monsters. Monsters in human clothing. 

Could monsterkind itself really be that different?

But the royal family continues to prove you wrong. In the three years since taking you in, they’d shown you nothing but kindness. 

Asriel’s locket, usually a familiar weight around your neck, is an uncomfortable reminder of this even as you drive the blade deeper into your skin. 

But you have a fascination with seeing your own blood. Knowing that it’s as red as it should be. You feel like you must be immortal to have survived this long; sometimes you expect to see yourself bleed the golden ichor of the gods. 

It’s not even because you’re depressed, or anything. You’re not the cover child of a teen suicide magazine. You don’t feel sad- in fact, you don’t feel much at all. 

You’re numb.

And you’re fine.

\-----

Of course you get caught. There’s no way you can hide anything from Asriel forever, even something like this, something that you don’t see as a big deal at all. 

Maybe it’s good that he found you. Because maybe you’d cut a bit too deep, or in the wrong spot, for you’re bleeding more than usual and it’s covering your fingers and you can’t get it to stop and you never wanted to see that look on Asriel’s face. 

He tackles you to the floor, because somehow he sees that as the right thing to do. You swear loudly at him, trying to kick him off of you just on instinct, and he cringes at your vulgarity but pins your uninjured arm down long enough to grab the knife that you’re only still holding because you’d been clutching it hard enough to hurt. He tosses it haphazardly onto the counter. 

You flinch at the loud clatter as it falls into the sink. 

It makes Asriel freeze and you use that as your opportunity to shove him off of you. He falls back, wide eyes still on you. He doesn’t look hurt but he looks confused, and he gently grabs your injured arm to inspect the damage. You’re biting back the swears threatening to tumble from your lips. You don’t know if it’s because of the situation or because of how aware you’ve become of the pain. 

The pain is usually a comfort. Grounding. A reminder that you’re real. 

Now it just stings and it’s bleeding onto the ground and marring Asriel’s pristine white fur crimson. 

His paws are shaking as he turns your arm over, swiping his thumb over an area of blood but luckily not over the cut itself. You’re frozen by the tenderness, a sob threatening to force itself up now that you’re realizing just how upset Asriel is going to be with you.

And then he freezes and you realize that he’s eyeing up the rest of the scars on your arm, running from your wrist all the way up past where your sleeve is bunched up. You can see the wheels turning in his head. The horror on his face makes it clear that he’s wondering how long this has been going on for. 

He drops your arm and you hiss in pain for a moment before he grabs your other arm, shoving your sleeve up before you can tear your arm away. 

When he sees the scars, he drops you as if you’d burned him. 

You hold your arms close to yourself, right hand clutching your left arm and holding your thumb over the cut. The scent of copper has filled the room. You feel sick. 

Asriel looks at you. “Why?” he asks simply, his voice sounding dry. Shaking. Emotionless. 

A million things flash through your head. 

_Because it helps._

_Because it’s the only thing that feels real._

_Because I want to._

_Because I need to._

You don’t say any of those. 

You push yourself up abruptly. You don’t offer Asriel a hand. “It’s not a big deal,” you mutter, though your voice is quivering and you’re shaking and your arm aches and you’re dizzy and don’t know if it’s from the blood loss or the overwhelming situation. You grab a towel off of the rack and hold it against your arm, grateful that it’s black, and swiftly exit the bedroom. 

You don’t pick up the knife on your way out. It would have just hurt Asriel more. Adding insult to injury. 

The bedroom door slamming behind you as you run inside must echo throughout all of New Home. You lock it behind you even though you don’t expect Asriel will come for you immediately. 

There are bandages stuck between your bed and the wall, and you wrap your arm while sitting on the floor, head thrown back against your bed. You wish that you didn’t have to do it like this- there’s a chance it could get infected, since you didn’t get to disinfect it in the bathroom. 

Oh well. Maybe it’ll kill you. 

You suspect that your “family” won’t be too happy with you now anyways. Maybe that’d be for the best. 

\-----

Asriel tells his mom, of course. 

You don’t miss the way that Asgore tries to subtly take Asriel out of the house for the day. You suspect that the king didn’t want his son to hear the conversation that was about to unfold. 

There’s yelling. A lot of it. Toriel has never yelled at you before, and so the sharpness of her voice is enough to have you flinching and cowering away until she calms down a bit. 

She’s not mad at you, she insists. She’s just disappointed. Concerned. 

“We all love you, Chara,” she tells you. It makes your stomach hurt. “None of us want to see you hurt.”

“It’s not a big deal,” you repeat, over and over like a mantra. Nobody understands. You didn’t expect them to. 

In the end, you do most of the yelling. After her initial bout of anger, Toriel refuses to raise her voice. She doesn’t give in to your baiting. 

You don’t reach an agreement, and so Toriel tells you that you’re forcing her to lock away all of the sharp objects. 

You didn’t expect anything different. 

She leaves you alone when you hear Asriel and Asgore returning. She gives you a long hug that you can’t bring yourself to return despite the tears stinging painfully at your eyes. You shove her away even though it’s the last thing you want to do.

You lock the door to your room and don’t let Asriel in for two days.

\-----

“Chara.”

You don’t look up. 

“Hey.”

Silence.

“You can’t ignore me forever.”

You roll your eyes even though you know he can’t see you. 

“Please, Char.”

Your pencil presses down hard enough against the page that the lead breaks. 

Your eyes flick up. 

“Hey,” Asriel says again, smiling from where he’s leaning forward against the castle library’s table. You’ve taken to doing your homework in there ever since Toriel had stopped you from locking Asriel out of your shared room and there was no longer any way to ignore him in there. 

You blink at him, raising an unamused eyebrow. 

His smile falls. “Please don’t hate me.” 

Your arm tingles, and you anxiously slide your nails under the bandage to scratch at the scab. Asriel realizes that you’re doing it before you do, and his whimper startles you out of the motion. 

You flatten your palms against the table and silently hold his stare. 

“Please don’t do that,” he says quietly. His voice is practically unreadable, and you hate it. You should know Asriel by now. 

You look back down. “I want to wear long sleeves again,” you mumble. It’s the first you’ve spoken to Asriel in weeks. 

You’re freezing. Toriel has limited you to t-shirts for the time being so that they can ensure you’re not hurting yourself (as if your arms were the only place you could) as well as make sure that you’re keeping the bandages on. 

You miss your striped sweater.

The prince’s eyes soften slightly. “It’s for your own protection, Chara.”

You make a disgusted sound. You’ve heard that phrase a lot over the past few years. 

Asriel pulls out the chair opposite of you and sits down. You open your mouth to protest but promptly snap it shut. 

A furry paw brushes against your hand. You try to yank it back but Asriel has already grabbed it and holds it in place, and after a moment, you relax. He runs his thumb over your palm as he holds your stare and you shiver. 

_It’s just hormones. Obviously._

“I’m just worried about you.” His stare doesn’t waver even as your heart plummets. “I love you, Chara.” 

You make a whimpering sound. Asriel doesn’t seem to notice. 

“I-” You take a deep breath in through your nose to compose yourself. “I love you too, Asri.”

You’re not sure if you’ve ever said that to anybody before. 

He gives you the slightest smile. “We’re going to get you help, Char. Everything is going to be okay.”

Your free hand comes up to clutch at your locket. 

_Famous last words._


	5. Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, this is where that "Canon Divergence" tag really comes in. This is the first chapter that Chara and Asriel talk about the plan to sacrifice themselves, and it does NOT happen in the same way that they canonically talk about it in the game. I purposely changed it to fit better with the flow of the story and the following chapters, so PLEASE don't tell me in the comments that I "didn't follow the game" because... I know. 
> 
> That's all. Thanks. 
> 
> Chapter warnings: **referenced suicide attempt, suicidal ideation, referenced self-harm, self-loathing.**

**14.**

“You act like you’ve never snuck out before,” you mumble before dropping from the window. It’s not too high of a fall- especially considering the fall you’d taken landing in the Underground- but it still sends shocks up your legs and you clutch at your thighs, hissing. Your shin aches as always, the reminder still constant and unwavering. 

Asriel drops down next to you with a slightly louder _thud_. He doesn’t land as gracefully as you, instead toppling over for a second before pushing himself to his feet. You know what his response is going to be and you mockingly mouth the words to yourself even as he quietly hisses, “I _haven’t_.” He’s uncharacteristically irritated, though you know he’s not actually annoyed with you.

You shoot him a grin, throwing an arm around his shoulders and tugging him closer. You pretend that the motion doesn’t give you a rush of butterflies in your stomach. “Live a little, Asri.”

He rolls his eyes and grumbles something under his breath but otherwise doesn’t protest as you take off down the path, ducking behind the shrubs to get past the Royal Guard members doing night watch (albeit not very well, if they can’t catch two fourteen-year-olds sneaking out). 

You’re quiet until you clear the yard and are out of immediate view of the castle. The capital is still alive even at this time of night, and you miraculously go unrecognized as you cut through streets full of bustling monsters. The lights of the buildings loom over you. For a bit, you and Asriel are normal people. Not the royal children. It’s nice. 

You decide to cut through the Core rather than going around it. It’s only accessible to those with keycards, since Asgore doesn’t want too many monsters using it as a shortcut. Luckily, you’d convinced Asriel to swipe his dad’s keycard out of the drawer earlier in the day. 

The two of you linger in the Core for a while despite its riskiness. The entire complex is under surveillance and you could be caught at any time, but Asriel’s eyes had lit up as he stared down at one of the technical center’s many whirring machines, and you just couldn’t protest. Not when something made him so happy. 

You have to duck out of sight for a while as you cross through an area of open land that’s being converted into some sort of resort. It’s under construction even this late at night, and the bright floodlights illuminating the area would have done nothing to hide your faces. 

Asriel laughs his way through Hotland’s easy puzzles while you just sigh and try to get them over with. You’re on a mission. 

You maybe spend a bit too long looking up at the Royal Scientist’s laboratory, though. 

Gaster had disappeared last month. Fallen into one of his machines. That’s all they would tell you. 

It’s more than they had told his family. Apparently the king and queen were the only ones to get the news, because Gaster’s son- another skeleton- had been in and out of the castle a lot in the past few weeks, furious and demanding answers. Demanding that Asgore do something, _anything_. 

You’d stayed silent as you watched your adoptive father try to sweep the doctor’s disappearance under a metaphorical rug. 

And now there was a new scientist. Alphys. You hadn’t met her yet. She wasn’t as interested in human biology, apparently. 

Asriel has to pull you away from staring at the lab. 

Waterfall is calm. That’s the point. You’re silent as the two of you pad along the boardwalks, water rippling gently underneath. 

It takes you an hour to reach the caves whose walls give off the illusion of a starry night sky. They’re thankfully empty, the only sound echoing throughout the faint dripping of water. 

You set your bags down, shaking out the small blanket taken from Asriel’s bed and dumping out the dozen bags of candy you’d snuck from the royal kitchen. 

You lay in silence for a while, staring up at the faux stars. It vaguely occurs to you that these are the only stars that Asriel has ever seen, and that makes you a bit sad. 

The blanket is smaller than you’d realized. Your arms are pressed against each others. Asriel is practically radiating heat, and you have to fight the urge to curl up against him. You can feel him breathing. 

You take in the “stars” for a while before Asriel speaks. “What are you thinking about?” he asks quietly, not looking over at you. 

Your eyes remain on the ceiling. “You,” you answer honestly. A smile quirks at your lips. 

You feel Asriel shift a bit at that, obviously surprised. “Me?” he asks, making a noise when you simply _mm-hmm_ in response. 

You close your eyes. “Asriel,” you murmur. 

This is it. 

You rarely say his name- not his full name rather than a nickname, at least- and you can feel him tense up. “Yes?”

You hold your breath for a moment. Make it or break it. 

“The monsters need seven human SOULs to break the barrier and return to the surface.” You say the words matter-of-factly, recited perfectly as if reading directly from a Monster Studies textbook. When Asriel doesn’t respond, you open one eye. “Correct?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Seven.” 

You close your eye again. “But only one human SOUL is needed for a single monster to cross through the barrier.”

There’s a hesitant pause. “Um, yes. But… Chara, why? Why do you ask?”

Obviously Asriel isn’t as up-to-date on the general consensus of the monsters who wish to kill you. 

You open your eyes, rolling over onto your side to face the prince. He startles at the sudden motion before moving onto his side as well. Dark eyes lock with your crimson ones. 

“Do you remember a few months ago, when we put buttercups in Asgore’s food instead of cups of butter?” He still looks confused, and now a little apprehensive, but nods. “Those flowers are poisonous to humans.” 

His eyebrows knit together. “Yeah, uh, they… they made Dad sick too, remember-”

“I know,” you cut him off sharply. His mouth snaps shut. “But they… they’re strong enough to kill humans.”

You hear his breath catch. He frowns. “Where are you going with this, Chara?”

He still isn’t piecing it together. 

Perfect Asriel. Too naive. 

You’re nervous, fingernails desperately digging into your arms to ground yourself, so you free one hand to latch onto Asriel’s. He stiffens for a second, surprised, before his fingers lace with yours. The heat of his paw pad presses against your palm and you smile. 

“You can take my SOUL,” you say firmly. You’d been thinking about this for a while. “And then you can go to the village by Mt. Ebott- my village- and get six more SOULs.”

Asriel pushes himself up abruptly, yanking his hand out of yours, and nearly smacks you in the face in the process. “ _What_?!” he demands, voice loud enough to echo off the dripping walls. His eyes are full of confusion and hurt and something almost like anger. 

You sit up as well, smiling calmly. “You could be a hero, Asri. _We_ could be heros.”

“I wouldn’t want to be a hero if it meant you had to die!”

You roll your eyes, _tsk_ ing as if the prince is some petulant child. “I’d live on within you, Asri.”

The hardened look on his face wavers just slightly. 

“But I… Chara, I can’t kill six humans,” he protests. His voice is shaky, but to your disappointment, you don’t think it’s because he’s giving in. 

You’re hit with guilt at the idea that he might just be scared of what you’ll do if he refuses. 

You grind your teeth, trying to compose yourself before you reply. “Asriel,” you bite out slowly. He flinches as if he’d been slapped. “The humans in that town… they’re the ones that hurt me.” 

It’s not the complete truth. The ones who hurt you the most… 

You’d already taken care of them before you fled. 

A dark look flashes across Asriel’s face. You know that he doesn’t know too much about your past- you’re pretty vague whenever you talk about it- but what he does know tends to infuriate him whenever it’s brought up. 

You aren’t sure how to feel about that. 

Asriel moves forward, suddenly enough for you to jump and squeak out of a years-old reflex. You see the apology on the prince’s face before he wraps two strong arms around you. 

You don’t return the hug, even as Asriel cries into your shoulder and sobs that he just can’t. 

\-----

You try not to show it, but you’re mad at Asriel.

It’s the angriest you’ve been since the year before when he got you in trouble with his parents. Gotten you put on probation, all the sharp objects in the house hidden away or placed out of your reach. Taken away Toriel and Asgore’s trust in you. 

Somehow, this is even worse. 

You only bring up the plan one more time, the day after your trip to Waterfall. That time, Asriel had been less calm about the situation. Instead of crying, which you could handle, he’d broken down and snapped at you that he wouldn’t risk losing you like that. 

You hadn’t responded. He’d later come up to you and apologized, but you suspect that he could feel a shift in your relationship. 

There’s a different dynamic between you two. When you need help on your homework, you don’t ask him. When you wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare, the taste of rust in your mouth from biting your tongue so hard, you don’t climb into his bed for comfort. 

He doesn’t push you. You’re not sure you want him to. 

There’s a part of you that wants to go through with the plan on your own. Perhaps if you poison yourself and make it look like an accident, Asgore will take your SOUL because he knows you’re going to die anyways. 

But when you collect a handful of buttercups and take them into your room, you can’t bring yourself to go through with it. Can’t bring yourself to do that to Asriel. 

You throw the buttercups in the trash. 

You dream of a talking yellow flower mocking you for your cowardice. 

\-----

Asriel brings up the situation with you after a week when it seems that he just can’t take it anymore. 

If anything, you’ve been even more detached lately. You’re currently sitting on the floor of the greenhouse, ripping apart the leave of an aloe plant and smearing the goo on your hands. It’s soothing, somehow. 

“Do you hate me?” Asriel blurts out of nowhere. As usual, he’s voicing his thoughts aloud. 

Your hands pause but you can’t bring yourself to look up at him. Your throat hurts with the pressure of keeping the sobs back. 

“Why would you think that?” you respond, voice completely monotone, detached. 

It doesn’t seem to escape Asriel that you didn’t answer his question. 

He pushes himself up off the ground without a word and returns to the house. 

\-----

That night, he sleeps on the couch. 

It hurts more than you’re willing to admit. 

The room is too quiet without his breathing on the other side of the room. You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and digging your nails into your wrists. They’re clipped short and filed down (at Toriel’s order) and don’t do much damage.

You swallow the lump in your throat and take a blanket out to the living room. 

It’s risky, with the rocky state of your relationship, but you shove him over the few spare inches on the couch and press yourself up against him, throwing a blanket over both of you. 

He pretends to be asleep, but shifts closer to you anyways.


	6. Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: **panic attacks, self-loathing, dysphoria, dissociation, injury, mentions of childhood trauma.**

**15.**

The vanity mirror in Toriel’s room makes you look too pale. 

Or maybe you really are just too pale. You haven’t seen the sun in five years, after all, and you’re not sure how much iron you’re really getting from monster food when all it’s made to do is heal after battles. 

You spend a long time scrutinizing yourself in the mirror. You know you have time; the king and queen are away for the whole weekend on royal business. 

It gives you plenty of time to pick yourself apart. 

You’re too scrawny. Your ribs are practically poking out and your hip bones are too sharp and you know that Asriel says he doesn’t mind when you snuggle close and elbow him too hard, but you know it has to hurt anyways. 

The faded scars on your arms look ugly in the bright lighting. It’s one of the few days you’ve decided to wear a t-shirt around the castle (it belongs to Asriel and it’s a totally dumb shirt with that stupid new robot star on it), and you’re regretting it. 

You don’t spend too long looking at them. Instead, your fingers curl in your hair, tugging irritatedly at it. 

It’s too long. A few inches past your shoulders now, the endings horribly split because it’s been over five years since you’ve had a haircut. 

When you’d fallen into the Underground, it had been just past your ears. You’d always had it like that, cutting it yourself ever since you were five years old and on the playground and two older boys pulled your hair and held you down with it until you were screaming and crying and pummeling your small fists into their ribs. 

It’s getting to that length again, and even though it’s been ten years, the memory is still fresh in your mind. 

Your fist flies towards the mirror. 

By the time Asriel bursts into the room, the door banging loudly against the wall, you already have a shard of glass gripped in your hand. Your knuckles are bleeding from their contact with the mirror and your fingers from how hard you’re holding onto the rough edges of the glass, but you hardly feel it. You’re panting and you can see in the mirror that your eyes are wide like a frightened animal’s.

They’re red and legitimately frightening and for a moment you want to gouge them out. Nobody should have to look at them. They make you look like a freak. A monster. 

“Chara,” Asriel says slowly, raising his palms and taking a hesitant step forward. You stare at him. You’re shaking and you’re on the verge of a panic attack and your head is swimming. This doesn’t feel real. You feel like you’re in a dream but you also feel like maybe you’re already dead. 

“Put the glass down.” 

You open your mouth. It snaps shut from how hard you’re trembling. 

After a moment, the glass falls out of your hand, landing harmlessly against the carpet. Once the immediate threat is gone, Asriel rushes forward, grabbing your forearms and seeming to examine you for any other signs of injury. 

“Are you okay?” he asks frantically, looking you up and down with panic in his eyes. Usually you would laugh at this, use it to calm down, but now you just feel sick. “What happened? Why did you hit the mirror?”

You let out a noise that sounds too much like a sob. You’re shaking so hard that you think that your knees are going to give out any second, and Asriel seems to notice this and moves his grip to your waist. At any other time, this would have sent butterflies into your stomach. Now, it’s just a painful reminder. 

“M-my hair,” you stutter, staring at Asriel with a panicked look even though you’re sort of recognizing how stupid this all is. “I-it’s too long. I-I need to cut it b-but I don’t have sc-scissors-”

“ _That’s_ what this is about?” the prince asks incredulously. You don’t think he means it in a patronizing way but it comes out that way, and you flinch, letting out a pained noise. 

You can see the panic shoot through Asriel, and you understand why. You’re never this vulnerable. You don’t get upset over things so trivial. 

He rubs his paws lightly up your arms, trying to breathe slow and audibly in hopes that he can get your breathing to sync up with his and return to normal. This is pretty routine; Asriel has had to calm you down from an immeasurable amount of panic attacks over the years. 

“Hey,” he says slowly, “how about I get scissors and cut your hair for you? Not… not sure you’re in a state to be holding sharp objects near your head, Char.” 

_Or sharp objects at all,_ goes unspoken.

You let out a sharp breath before nodding jerkily. Asriel sends a quick look towards the shattered glass before starting to steer you towards the backroom. Once there, he holds you gently in place for a moment before giving you a ‘stay’ look and exiting the room. 

This mirror, unshattered, doesn’t flatter you any more than the other one. 

You try to compose yourself before Asriel returns. You avoid your own gaze in the mirror and splash cold water on your face, scrubbing your hands over your cheeks until they burn. You dig a brush out of ‘your’ drawer and run it through your hair a few times, smoothing it down from its frazzled state. 

When Asriel returns, holding a pair of scissors (you recognize them as Toriel’s sewing scissors, and you wonder where he found them), he looks nervous. He shuts the bathroom door behind him even though there’s nobody else home and shifts awkwardly. You try to give him a smile but only manage a steady look before turning back towards the mirror and nodding. 

“O-okay,” Asriel breathes, even though you hadn’t actually said anything. You watch him in the mirror as he stands behind you. He’s a good few inches taller than you now- you haven’t grown much since your growth spurt at age twelve- but from this angle, it looks like he’s towering over you. 

“H-how short do you want it?” the prince asks hesitantly, nervously snipping the scissors in the air by your head as if to emphasize that he’s actually about to cut your hair. 

You train your eyes on the reflection of the scissors before shooting Asriel a look. You’re trying to patronize him for stuttering despite your own state a few minutes before, and you’re sure he realizes this. Somehow, this boosts your confidence a bit. 

“Just below chin length,” you answer confidently, looking back to the mirror and meeting your own gaze. Steady. Level. 

Asriel nods, the movement shaky as he runs a hand through your hair to flatten it. You can’t help but shiver at the touch, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. It sends a flurry of feeling into your lower stomach and makes you want to jab a knife into it. 

You can tell that he’s trying to be careful, but the scissors are obviously pretty awkward in his hands and the movements are shaky and untrained. You try not to jump at the sound of the scissors so close to your ear, and you fail a few times. Each time, Asriel murmurs a panicked apology, and always makes sure you’re ready before he cuts again. 

Chestnut locks fall to the floor around you. You keep your eyes trained on your sock-clad feet rather than meeting your reflection’s gaze. Your fingers clench tightly into fists at your sides, trimmed nails biting lightly into your palms. 

A fuzzy finger brushes against the back of your neck and you make an embarrassing squeak as your knee jerks forward, bumping into the cabinet. 

You swear and Asriel jumps back, lowering the scissors. You forget about the stinging of you knee immediately as you meet your own panicked stare in the mirror, face flushing. 

There’s an awkward silence. 

“Uh,” Asriel says. 

You cough. 

“You okay?” 

You nod too quickly. 

“Want me to continue?”

A more hesitant nod. 

The prince cracks a smile as he steps forward again, hand on your shoulder to steady you before he starts trimming again. You can tell he’s fighting not to laugh, and as you squeeze your eyes shut once more, you angrily mutter, “It just tickled, ‘s all.” 

“Sure thing, Char.” 

You hiss out the breath you’d been holding in. 

When Asriel is finished, he steps back, lowering the scissors, and you shake your head quickly as you hesitantly finger the tips of your hair. While Asriel’s cutting had been sort of uneven and choppy, your hair already feels more healthy than the frayed ends you’d been stuck with before. When you look at yourself in the mirror, you already feel much better. This is what you should look like. 

The flush is back in your face, and in a good way this time. You shoot Asriel a smile and your now-shorter hair bobs a bit. He returns the grin. 

You can’t ignore the way his face has reddened, though, and you raise a questioning eyebrow. 

Asriel shifts nervously, glancing away. “You… you look good. It looks good. The haircut, I mean. B-but also you! Y-y’know, as an extension. Of the haircut.” 

You laugh. You take the scissors from him, ignoring his frown and momentary panic until you set them on the edge of the sink so that you can wrap your arms around him. 

He leans into the touch. 

“Thanks,” you murmur. You can feel Asriel’s heart beating. 

He audibly swallows. “N-no problem.” 

Now to clean up that glass and come up for a good excuse for how you broke the mirror.

\-----

After the adrenaline has worn off from your panic attack, you’re tired and cuddly and embarrassed. 

When you and Asriel are readying for bed at night, you linger awkwardly by the lightswitch, one hand absently playing with your hair. Even after a few hours, you’re still not used to the feeling.

“Hey,” you force out awkwardly, making Asriel pause from where he was about to climb into bed. He shoots you a quizzical look. “Can I, uh… can I sleep in your bed tonight?” 

He looks surprised, and you immediately feel your face flush. While you two have often climbed into bed with one another after nightmares, you’ve never started out the night in one bed. 

But after a beat of silence, he beams. “Sure.” 

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in and shut out the light. 

Twin-sized beds weren’t meant for two people, and they certainly weren’t meant for two people who wanted to have space between them. You know that Asriel knows this, so you feel no shame in automatically pressing up close to him, tucking your head under his chin. His arm falls around your waist, a comforting weight. 

You’re vulnerable. Exposed. You can’t imagine ever letting your guard down like this around anybody else. 

It’s nice. 

You don’t fall asleep immediately, of course. Being this close to Asriel has you giddy and giggly and it quickly rubs off on him. When your eyes adjust, you lock gazes with him in the dark. 

You can feel his warm breath on your face. For a moment, you feel your stomach tense and your lungs clench up, and it’s hard to breathe. 

Asriel must feel you stiffen, for he offers you a small smile and a quiet, “Hey.” 

You close the small distance between you and press your lips against his. 

It’s chaste and quick and kind of sloppy, and you pull back immediately, searching his face for a reaction. 

You don’t get one other than shock, and it hurts more than you thought it would. You start to roll away, feeling your eyes sting, but Asriel’s arm tightens around you. 

“Hey, Char- hey!” You’ve tucked your face into his neck again, making an embarrassed sound. Fuck. You’re such an idiot. 

_Stupid, stupid, stupid, Chara! Jesus Christ! Why would you do something like that? You’re disgusting. Obviously Asriel wouldn’t want to kiss you._

“Look at me,” he says softly. You don’t move. He nudges your head with his nose, a slight nuzzle. “Please?”

You pull back, meeting his eyes. Your face burns in the dark. 

“Chara…” Your heart sinks with his tone. “It’s not that I don’t want to.” 

You give a short, humorless laugh. “Don’t patronize me, Asriel. You don’t have to try and let me down easy.” 

“Chara, it’s _not that_ , it’s just-” He breaks off, making a frustrated sound. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.” 

You’re too surprised to roll your eyes. “How would you be taking advantage of me?” 

He nuzzles your head again. Your heart flutters. 

“You had a rough day, Char. You- I know your feelings are super messed up right now. And I’d be a real jerk if I used that against you.” 

You pound a fist against his chest, but it’s pretty half-hearted and weak, even for you. You blame your tired and emotionally drained state. “Whatever, Mr. Chivalry.” 

Asriel laughs before pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

You grumble something about how dumb he is before you fall asleep.


	7. Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: **self-loathing, dissociation, panic attacks, self-harm, suicidal thoughts, attempted assault.**

**16.**

You’ve just turned sixteen when Asgore starts talking about stepping down from the throne. 

It’s nothing to be effective immediately, of course. He’s just bringing it up as something that will be happening in the near future. 

It catches you off guard. You’re sitting in the living room, curled up in Toriel’s large chair with a cup of half-gone tea in one hand and a fantasy novel in the other. Asgore sits across from you, sipping his own tea in comfortable silence. Toriel is working on legal business in the capital, and Asriel has been in the library all day, working on an essay that one of your older teachers has assigned you both (you haven’t started on yours yet). 

Asgore clears his throat, and your eyes flick up to him. 

“Chara,” he says. He’s not looking at you, instead staring out the window at the garden. 

You raise an eyebrow, taking a quick sip of your tea. It’s chilled to room temperature, and you make a face. “Hm?” 

“Have you and Asriel…” He looks at you, and your stomach twists into anxious knots. “... discussed how you will be splitting power when your mother and I step down?” 

( _’Your mother.'_ All of them- Asgore, Toriel, and Asriel himself- always refer to the king and queen as being as much your parents are they Asriel’s. And while you almost always call them by their names (save for a few times when you were sleepy or sick or upset and it slipped out), you can’t deny the parental atmosphere they put off.)

You frown, not fully understanding his question. While he’d never brought up the subject of a power exchange before, you knew that he and Toriel were getting older. Boss monsters grow to be adults and don’t age anymore until they’ve had children, but since Asriel- and you, you suppose- are getting older, they’ve aged quite a bit. And it shows. Toriel isn’t as lively in her movements around the kitchen, and as you’ve snuck glances at Asgore sparring with Undyne (now the captain of the Royal Guard, but still coming to him for training), you’ve noticed that his attacks have slowed down quite a bit. 

You’d thought before about Asriel becoming king. He will make a great king. This you’re sure of. 

But you’d never considered yourself as part of the equation.

“What do you mean?” you ask, eyebrows knitting together. “Asriel just has to be coronated, right? There’s- there’s not anything I have to do, right?” 

Asgore frowns, as if he’s confused by your confusion. “Chara,” he says slowly, “you realize that you and Asriel will likely be co-rulers, correct?” 

You had not. 

It startles a laugh out of you, but the sound isn’t amused. “I’m not a ruler,” you say. The idea is so laughable that it draws another giggle out. “Plus, I’m… I’m not a monster. I can’t rule a monster kingdom.” 

Asgore is still frowning. “You are as much our child as Asriel is, Chara. Your status as child of the royal family puts you in the same ranking as him.” 

Your fingers tighten around the handle of your mug. Your book has fallen shut without you having the chance to make your page. 

“I can’t-” You fumble for words.

You can’t believe what he’s saying.

“I _can’t._ ” 

Asgore pauses. “Chara, I know you have had… troubles, in the past-” he begins. 

You stand up and drop your book on the table. The mug quickly follows it, splashing a bit as it collides roughly with the surface. 

“I- I need a minute,” you gasp. A hand clutches at your locket, a nervous habit. Your chest is seizing up and your head is already spinning a bit. 

Asgore opens his mouth to say something, but you’ve already run out of the room. 

You’re glad that you don’t run into Asriel on the way to your room. You’re not sure you could face him right now. What would you even say? You’re freaking the hell out because you don’t know how to accept that you mean something to somebody? 

That you mean something to an entire nation, apparently. 

It’s overwhelming. It’s too much. It can’t be true _it can’t be true it can’t be true nobody would ever love you Chara it’s not true-_

In your room, you throw open the wardrobe. You pull one of Asriel’s large cloaks over your head because you know it’s likely cold outside and you’re not sure how long you’re going to be gone for. 

You spot Asriel’s keycard for the Core at the bottom of the wardrobe and you snatch it up, shoving it into a pocket. 

Asgore only loosely tries to stop you on your way out. He’s out of his chair, holding his large hands up with an apologetic look on his face. “Chara, please-” 

“I just- I need some air,” you rush out. You don’t dart directly for the door but glance nervously at it as you rock back on the heels of your boots. 

Asgore watches you for a long moment before nodding solemnly. “Please be safe.” 

You’re a little surprised. Very rarely have they allowed you to leave on your own, and each time was only when you had to run downtown to pick something up. And now, Asgore hasn’t even asked you where you intend to go. 

“Don’t-” Your throat clenches up, and you swallow. “Make something up for Asriel, okay? Don’t let him worry about me.” 

Asgore looks a bit more concerned about that, but nods. 

The cold wind hits you in the face as soon as you get outside. You throw your hood up, glad that the cloak is big enough on you that the hood hangs over your face. Once you make it out of the castle grounds and to the city, nobody recognizes you. 

Good. 

The capital is a flurry of chaos, as usual. Monsters hustle and bustle by you, some shoving roughly into your shoulders and making you scowl. That’d never happen if they knew who you were- 

Ugh, you’re doing it. Just reinforcing what Asgore said. Acting like you belong. Like this is your kingdom too. 

And it’s not. You shouldn’t even be here. 

_You shouldn’t even be alive,_ a voice in your head reminds you. 

You clutch at your locket. 

\----

There are loose gold coins in the bottom of the pockets of Asriel’s cloak, and you use them to purchase a butterfly knife from a shady-looking merchant at the capital’s outdoor market. 

You’re not planning to use it for what Asriel would probably fear you would if he knew you bought it (which you don’t intend to tell him). You just want to have it, especially being out on your own. For as long as that will be. 

With it folded up and tucked into your boot, you feel much more secure. 

Asriel is going to be so upset with you. 

You shove your hands back into the pockets of Asriel’s cloak and pick absently on a loose thread as you head for the Core. 

\-----

It takes you several hours to reach Waterfall. Longer than you remember it taking the few times you’d traveled here with Asriel. 

Music echoes through the dripping cave. You’re relieved to find that it’s empty, no other monsters lingering around to stare at the glittering ceiling. 

You sigh as you shuck off the cloak and drop it onto the ground, sitting down on it. You absently tug the knife out of your boot and lose yourself in the motion of flicking it open and closed. You catch a glimpse of your distorted reflection in the blade, your eyes shining. 

It makes your breath catch. 

You don’t look like a ruler. You look like a crazed human child. 

Your thumb slips off the hilt and scrapes over the blade just enough to slice the skin. You immediately hiss and drop the knife, bringing your thumb up to your mouth to lick the blood off. Afterwards, you roll your eyes at yourself. 

How could Asgore ever consider you for a potential ruler?

The thought makes you pause. Does Toriel expect you to take over, too? 

… Does Asriel? 

… No. No way. That can’t be right. 

Asriel is the one who should lead. The one and only. 

You can’t even keep your own head level. You’re a fucked up mess and you always have been. 

You can’t lead a nation. 

Water trickles down the walls. You collapse onto your back and stare up the cave ceiling. You drop the knife, and it falls a few inches to land harmlessly on your chest. 

You put your arm by your side, but for a moment, your hand twitches back towards the blade. Maybe you should just get this over with now. Get yourself out of the picture. 

But you think back to when you were fourteen, when you couldn’t do it then. And you still can’t, because you can’t do that to Asriel. To Asgore, to Toriel. 

To the Underground, apparently. 

\-----

You hide out in the cave for hours. Time passes oddly in the Underground, and it’s difficult to judge it at all from within a cave. Still, when you finally emerge, your feet echoing on the boardwalks, you get the feeling that it’s late at night. 

You wonder if Asriel is worrying yet. 

It occurs vaguely to you that this is the time of the day that the Underground gets more dangerous. You could never say this aloud, but there are some monsters that are much more dangerous than others, and most of those are nocturnal. 

It’s bad to generalize, you know, but you still keep your fingers ready to grab the knife from your boot if needed as you pad down the boardwalk. 

You’re almost to the end of the boardwalks when you hear the water starting to shift and ripple more violently. It startles you enough that you pause, foolishly allowing a moment of hesitation for a dripping blue monster to drag itself out of the water and up onto the dock. 

The thing has to be a good few inches taller than you ( _not that that’s difficult,_ Asriel’s voice teases in your head). It’s made out of some sort of slime (many things that live in Waterfall are) but it has something akin to arms and a lump that vaguely resembles a head with a mouth and two beady black eyes. 

Whatever it is, it’s blocking your path. When you carefully step to the side, it slithers over that way, too. 

Your eyes narrow. 

“Move it, pal,” you snap. You vaguely realize that you don’t have your hood up and there’s a high probability that the monster could recognize you as a royal child, but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

The creature shifts, its slime rippling. “Where ya goin’, kid?” it asks in a deep, rumbling voice. Its mouth doesn’t open when it speaks. 

You shift uncomfortably. 

“Home,” you spit, trying not to let your voice shake. 

_Never show your fear._ You can’t remember where you’d heard that, but it resonates in your head. 

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” the monster coos, trying to make its voice sound soothing. The hair on your arms stands up, your stomach dropping. The creature slithers forward a bit, and you take a shaky step back as you scowl at it. 

It moves even closer. “Why don’t you stay a little while?”

You gag a bit. 

A dripping arm/hand/appendage slithers closer and plays with the bottom of your cloak, pushing it up just slightly. Despite the panic that this sends into your chest, your hand shoots out to hit it away. 

But the creature just wraps itself around your wrist in a death grip that really shouldn’t be possible for a creature that isn’t solid. 

You try to shake it off and it doesn’t budge, and the creature only moves closer. 

You let out a sound that can only be described as a growl. “Let go if you want to keep that limb,” you snarl, trying again and again to yank your hand back. 

The monster chuckles- or something similar to it. “Don’t be like that, sweetheart.” It moves forward so that its dripping body is nearly pressed against yours. 

And that’s the final straw. 

Your free hand shoots down to whip the knife out of your boot. You swing at the monster without a bit of hesitation, and you feel yourself toppling backwards as your SOUL is yanked out of your chest. 

You’ve been pulled into an encounter. The creature’s SOUL, a white heart, floats across from yours. 

You point the knife forward. 

**FIGHT**.

\-----

“Chara! Where have you been? I was so worried!” 

You shuck off Asriel’s cloak. Your sweater, shorts, and knee socks quickly follow, and you know that Asriel is looking away, embarrassed, but you don’t care. 

“Uh, Char…? You okay?” 

You pull on pajama shorts and one of Asriel’s t-shirts. When you leave the room, heading for the bathroom, Asriel trails behind you. 

Something stops you before you can make it to your destination. The hallway mirror hanging up by Toriel and Asgore’s room. You’ve always hated it. 

As you stop to look at your reflection, Asriel shakes your shoulder gently. “You in there, Char?” 

In the mirror, your eyes are as red as smear of blood right by your lip. You’re surprised that Asriel hasn’t noticed it yet. 

Your hair frames your face in the appropriate length that it has ever since Asriel started trimming it for you last year. 

Your golden locket hangs in the place it always does. You don’t even feel its weight anymore. 

Everything is in place. You’re real. 

You look past Asriel’s own reflection, unable to tear your eyes away from yourself. 

_It’s me, Chara._

You take a shuddery breath. A smile tugs at your lips and with it, a laugh pours out. You can see Asriel’s expression flicker to something of unease. 

“Uh, you’re really freaking me out, man. It’s been years since you’ve done your creepy face.” 

Your fists clench at your side. The adrenaline is still burning through you. Maybe that’s what’s making you so giddy. 

Or maybe you’re just enjoying this too much. 

You can hear the moment that Asriel’s breathing halts. 

“Chara.” 

There’s a long pause.

“Why is there dust all over your hands?”


	8. Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: **mental breakdowns, panic attacks, dissociation, self-loathing, suicidal thoughts.**

**17.**

“Again,” Undyne orders. 

You sigh but press your fingers down against the keys. You’re familiar enough with this measure now that your fingers fly across the piano almost flawlessly, so you don’t see why Undyne is so adamant about you practicing it over and over again. 

(You’ve been in piano lessons with her for six months now. It’s humiliating; Undyne is the captain of the Royal Guard, so if she’s teaching you anything, it should be how to fight! 

But Asriel was adamant. He said you needed ‘distractions.’ He was worried about you, he told you again and again. Ever since that day. 

You don’t remember much of it. You don’t really remember what Asriel was talking about, about how you acted weird afterwards. 

You remember killing the monster, but you don’t remember the fight. All you can recall is the light leaving its eyes as it splattered into dust. The rush of adrenaline you got from it. 

It was an amazing feeling, and that was why Asriel wanted to distract you. Take your mind away from it. Make you so busy with other activities that you were unable to think about how good it felt to kill.)

“Good,” Undyne says, grinning and showing off her fangs. “You could be as good as me if you keep it up, kid!” She punches your arm for emphasis and you fight not to cringe at the strength. You’ll probably have a bruise later. 

Oh well. 

\-----

The surplus of activities continues. On top of piano, there’s also violin. Soccer. Extra science classes. Archery. Toriel encourages you to sew or cook with her, but neither activity does much in the way of distracting you. 

It doesn’t help that Asriel is hardly around anymore. Due to his parents’ confirmation that they will indeed be stepping down from the throne the following year, he’s been throwing himself into every legal book the library has. He goes with Asgore to all of his meetings and sits with Toriel at night to discuss how to keep peace in a nation that’s restless and itching for some good news. 

You try to remind Asriel that he could easily fix his nation’s problems if he’d just accept your deal. He doesn’t want to hear it, and mentioning it only drives him away more. 

You don’t bring it up much more.

\-----

_Power._

_That’s what this feeling is. Control. Order._

_Clutching a knife in your hand gives that to you._

_There’s a trail of dust and blood behind you and you have to assume that you were the cause of it. Even though you recognize that you must have done something horrible, you don’t feel any remorse._

_Not when it makes you feel like this._

_You could argue that it was self-defense. You could argue that you felt like the monsters were going to take your life, your SOUL._

_But you can’t justify slaughtering every monster in the area. Even you recognize that as overkill (no pun intended)._

_You’ve committed mass genocide._

_You can feel your sins crawling up your back, but you can’t bring yourself to feel bad about it._

You wake up in a cold sweat, gasping and panting and shooting up in bed. 

It’s dark and for a moment, you panic, but you can hear Asriel breathing across the room.

Your hand clutches at your locket until the clasp starts to hurt where it’s pressed against your palm. 

\-----

“Hey, Asri.” 

The prince looks up from where he’s reading on a couch in the library, smiling when he sees you. It makes your heart surge and you feel guilty, not for the first time, for freaking him out. 

“Hey.” He lets his book fall shut but keeps a finger in it to mark his page. 

You nod towards the couch. “Can I…?” 

“Of course.” 

Maybe he expects you to sit next to him, but instead you sit sideways and throw your legs over the arm of the couch, lounging back and resting your head on Asriel’s lap. He looks a little surprised, but you smile playfully up at him and, after a moment, he returns it.

He gives you a look before opening his book, holding it over your head. You close your eyes. 

“Want me to read to you?” he asks. 

You open an eye to peek at the cover of the book. It’s some legal textbook. “No thanks,” you murmur with a smile, shutting your eyes again. 

“Suit yourself,” the prince mutters.

You make a noise in response. 

Your hands are resting on your chest, folding over themselves absently and fingers tugging at the worn cuffs of the dress shirt you have on under your sweater. Your locket is underneath your shirt and you can feel the cool metal against your chest. 

One of Asriel’s hands comes down to play with your hair. You arch into the touch.

“Chara.” You crack your eyes open a bit. Asriel looks down at you over the top of his book. “Have you been having any more… thoughts?” 

It’s worded so awkwardly that you have to cringe, though you know what he means. It’s been awhile since you’ve admitted your murderous urges to Asriel. 

(You’ve never expected anybody to understand, but you’d at least hoped that Asriel wouldn’t look at you like you were a freak when you told him how killing that monster had made you feel. And he didn’t. While he hadn’t blamed you for killing the thing that had attacked you- it was merely self-defense- he’d been more than a little worried about you and where your future was going.)

You think about the dream you’d had the night before. “No,” you lie. You think he can tell, but he just nods. 

When he doesn’t say anything else, you roll onto your side, pressing your face into his stomach. He’s wearing a soft cotton shirt, and it just smells like… Asriel. Like golden flowers and something sweet. 

“You’re going to make a great king, Asriel,” you murmur, words muffled. He asks you to repeat what you said and you do so, rolling onto your back again to stare up at him. After meeting your gaze for a moment, he dog-ears the page of his book and sets it next to him on the couch, turning his attention fully on you. 

“I don’t want to be king without you by my side, Char,” he answers genuinely. It’s not really what you’re expecting and you _definitely_ don’t expect him to sound so earnest saying it. 

You frown. He mirrors it. 

“You know I don’t want to be,” you pause for a moment, trying to think of a gender-neutral term for king or queen, “... sovereign.” 

Asriel snickers at your hesitant use of the word, but quickly steels himself. “I know. But you could still be my advisor, right?” When you just stare blankly up at him, he clarifies, “Y’know, help me out with legal stuff. Make sure I’m not messing up. It’d be like we’re ruling together, but I’d be the face of it.” 

You’re silent for a moment, turning the words over in your head. It _does_ sound more appealing than actually being a ruler yourself, but... 

“But I’m not…” You press your lips together in frustration, unsure of yourself. “I’m not good- I’m not a good person, Asriel. You don’t want me by your side.” 

“But I _do_ ,” he insists. His brows knit together and he continues frowning. 

“I’m crazy-” 

“You’re _not_!” he interrupts, sounding distraught. He shifts uncomfortably and you peel yourself off of him, rolling halfway onto the floor before standing up and putting a few feet in between you. 

“I killed a monster, Asri.” You put your hands on your hips. “And I don’t regret it.” 

Apprehension flickers across his face. You know he hates when you bring it up; he’s just tried to forget it. 

You wish you could.

“That’s not the same,” he protests, standing up. “You were just defending yourself-”

“I _loved_ it,” you continue with a flourish. You’re spitting the words out bitterly now, self-loathing curling in your chest and making your lungs burn. You don’t know how much you really mean it, but you’re sort of trying to push Asriel away. It’d probably be better for him if he thought of you as crazy, unstable. 

“Chara-” 

“You know I still think about it, right?” you interrupt. Your lips twist up in a smile, and you can tell it unnerves him. “I _dream_ about it. About how it felt to take a life.” 

“Stop it! Stop, Chara, I don’t want-” 

“It’s power, Asriel, more power than you could ever dream of. Taking the most precious thing someone has away from them just because you want to and because you can.” 

Asriel’s eyes are pricking with tears now. While this makes you feel bad, you’re absolutely numb. Locked out. You can hear your words echoing in your head but you don’t feel like you’re really saying them. 

Maybe Asriel is finally realizing who the true monster is. 

When he doesn’t say anything, you press on, “I loved it, Asriel.” You take a step closer to him and he flinches. 

_”And I would do it again.”_

For a moment, you freeze. You can hear Asriel’s breath catch and you’re expecting him to hit you, to lash out and strike you across the face. It’d be what you deserve. 

But he doesn’t, of course. Because he’s _Asriel._ Instead, he pushes past you and runs out of the library. You can hear him crying before he slams the door shut. 

You fall to the floor, hands shaking. You can suddenly breathe again, and you wish you weren’t.

\-----

The second story of the castle is rarely used. It’s mostly empty rooms, old furniture collecting dust. 

You sneak out onto a balcony and haul yourself up onto the ledge, sitting down and letting your feet dangle. It’s winter, and a cold breeze rushes by. You still find yourself wondering how the weather works in the Underground. 

The ground is far below. You’re not scared of heights because you’re very rarely up high anyways, but the view makes you dizzy. 

You take a deep breath. Maybe you should just get it over with, no contemplation. You’re never going to do it if you hesitate. 

“ _Chara!_ ”

Asriel’s voice nearly startles you off the ledge by itself. You swear in surprise before jerking your head back to look at him. 

He stands awkwardly in the open doorway, a look of worry on his face. You hate it. He shouldn’t still care about you, not after what you did today. He should hate you. That’s what you were trying to do. 

But despite everything, he’s still Asriel. 

He approaches you slowly, slipping his jacket off his shoulders and draping it around yours. After ensuring that you’re not going to fall off in surprise, he climbs up next to you. You stare out at the lights of the capital as Asriel’s leg bumps against yours. 

He wraps an arm around your waist. You suspect that it’s mostly to keep you from jumping rather than out of affection. 

“Go away, Asriel,” you mutter without looking at him. You’re already choking back tears and the words come out ragged. 

“No,” he replies simply. He doesn’t add anything.

You frown at the ground. “Why won’t you just let me die already?” you ask. It’s meant to come out frustrated but instead it’s much more of a genuine question than you would have liked. 

You expect Asriel to get emotional about this, but instead he just casually states, “Because I love you.” 

You feel your heart clench up, breath stuttering. “You shouldn’t.” 

Asriel shrugs. 

“Maybe not,” he says, “but that doesn’t change anything.” 

You can feel the tears in your eyes, but you can’t wipe them away without giving yourself away, so instead you just glare at the ceiling of the cavern and try to blink them away. 

“I killed someone,” you remind him. 

“I know,” he says. 

“I tried to kill myself,” you continue. You’re a bit desperate now. You need Asriel to realize that you’re bad news. You’re bad for him. You’re just going to hold him back when he becomes king. 

This makes him tense up a bit, but he just repeats, “I know.” 

“You _can’t_ love me, Asriel!” you cry, frustrated, as you scoot away from him and move his arm off of you so that you can look at him. You teeter dangerously for a moment before you regain your balance. 

Even when you glare at him, tears falling down your cheeks and making you shiver when the wind hits you, he just holds your stare. His face gives nothing away. 

“I do, though.” 

You make a whining noise in response and slap your hands to your face to hide your tears. You hear Asriel climbing off the ledge and standing next to you so that he can gently pull you with him. 

Your knees give out and you hit the concrete of the balcony floor. Asriel follows, wrapping his arms around you and letting you press your face into his neck as you sob. 

“I can’t lose you,” you gasp, even though it’s the opposite of what you’ve been trying to do. You repeat it over and over again until the words don’t even sound like words anymore. Like it’s the only thing you know. That you need Asriel. That you can’t do this without him. Do anything without him. 

“You’re not going to,” he promises. He presses his nose against your hair, nuzzling you. 

You sit like that for a long while, crying as Asriel rocks you back and forth. You don’t go inside until Asriel starts to worry about how cold your skin has gotten. 

The next day, you have a fever and end up in bed for a week. Asriel brings you soup and reads to you. 

You feel loved, and you’ve never felt less powerful. 

Somehow, you’re okay with that.


	9. Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: **slight panicky and self-conscious thoughts,** and that's about it because this chapter is pretty fluffy.

**18.**

“Keep still,” you mutter agitatedly through the pins you’re holding between your lips. Your fingers nimbly grab one to pin part of Asriel’s tunic in place. 

The prince- _soon to be king, oh my god_ \- shifts uncomfortably despite your order. Your eyes flick angrily up to his and he smiles apologetically. 

“Your fault if you get poked,” you mumble against the pins. You can tell he’s rolling his eyes without even looking; Asriel knows you’re too careful to actually stick him with a pin. 

You work quickly in silence, pinning the fabric where it’s loose. By the time you’re out of pins, you’ve managed to secure the cloth so that it fits better. You take a step back to examine your work. 

After giving Asriel a quick up-and-down, snickering at his obvious embarrassment, you nod approvingly. “Looks great. Now take it off so Toriel can tailor it.” 

He nods, and you offer him a smile before you duck out of the room so he can get changed in private. Once the door swings shut behind you, your smile drops. 

Asriel’s coronation is only a few days away. It’s only a few short days until he becomes king of the Underground. 

Asgore and Toriel are planning to retire to the Ruins. This is a fact that they neglected to tell the two of you until recently. 

“It will be good for us to get away from the crowd for a while,” your adopted mother had told you with a kind smile. 

Well, if that was what they really wanted to do, the Ruins are the perfect spot for it. Hardly anybody travels there anymore. 

You know that Asriel hates that his parents will be so far away, all the way on the other side of the Underground, but they’d tried again and again to reassure him that they were only a phone call away if either of you need anything. 

“Plus, you have Chara,” Asgore had told him, shooting a paternal smile your way. Asriel had looked at you, too, with a smile that was too kind and too _knowing_ and had made you squirm. 

You wander down the hallway, catching your reflection in the mirror on the wall. You stop to meet your own gaze for a moment. 

It’s now been two years since you killed the monster in Waterfall, and while the intrusive thoughts aren’t as common as they used to be, they’re still present. You just try to keep them shoved into the back of your mind and you _don’t_ tell Asriel about it. 

You’re about to be the king’s advisor. You can’t be some murderous teenager with a knife fetish. 

Your eyes harden in the mirror. Your locket catches light and reflects it at you. 

Your SOUL throbs with determination.

\-----

“I feel like everybody’s looking at me,” you mutter quietly to Asriel, casting your eyes towards the ground. You’d accidentally scuffed up your black dress shoes right before the ceremony and you’re hoping nobody notices. 

“That’s because they are,” he whispers back, not reassuring you at all. Your face flushes as you dare a glance at the crowd. 

It’s hard to tell who they’re all looking at, actually. Asgore is still mid-speech, so some are obviously giving him their full attention, but others are blatantly staring at you and Asriel, standing off to the side.

You get the appeal of looking at Asriel. He looks so formal, so regal, in the tunic and dress pants and flowing robes that you’d begrudgingly helped Toriel with. You can see that he still has his locket on even though it doesn’t go at all with the outfit and is even covering the royal emblem on the front, and the thought that it means so much to him- that you mean so much to him- makes your heart throb. 

But you don’t understand why anyone would spare a glance at you. By now, the monsters are used to you, so you being a human is nothing to stare over. You’d refused an outfit like Asriel’s, partially because _he_ deserved the attention, not you, and partially because you were more interested in modern fashion. 

Compared to Asriel, you look plain in your black slacks, white dress shirt, and black suit jacket (though the jacket is emblazoned with the royal crest on the back, at Toriel’s request). Your locket is on display, as well, and you wonder if the crowd has made the connection between yours and Asriel’s. 

It’s hard for you to look at the crowd for too long. You’ve never thought that you were one for stage fright, but you’d never really had any chance to experience it before. The room feels too hot, the collar of your shirt too tight. You’re itching to fidget but you’d been getting strict lectures from an elderly countess for weeks now as she educated you and Asriel on posture and appearance and politeness. 

The ceremony drags on. You’re relieved when Asgore calls Asriel up to him, because it means you can move at least enough to reposition yourself to look at him. 

There’s a teary speech from the current king that’s pretty off-kilter and unscripted as he tells his son how proud he is of all of his accomplishments and what a great king he’ll make. Asriel ducks his head and chuckles embarrassedly, which only drives Asgore further. He wraps Asriel in a big hug which Toriel quickly comes up to join in on. You linger awkwardly from the side, hooking your thumbs in your pockets because you know the crowd’s attention is focused on the family and nobody will notice you. 

When Asgore is done embracing his son, he clears his throat awkwardly and looks towards you. 

“And my second child,” he starts, “Chara.” 

Heat floods your face as you hear the crowd audibly turn to look at you. You don’t look at them, instead meeting Asgore’s smile and swallowing the lump in your throat. 

He called you his child. In front of the entirety of the monster world.

Even after eight years, you still struggle to understand how they’d so easily accepted you. 

“I have never been more proud of you, Chara,” Asgore says, and you startle. “You have proven yourself more than I could have ever expected from a human. You have made a great companion for Asriel, and I believe that the two of you bring out the best of each other.” Your lips have parted in surprise, the words spinning around in your head. Asriel smiles at you from his place next to the king. 

Asgore continues, “I am very honored to call myself your father.”

The crowd coos before clapping as you duck your face, trying to hide your blush. Your stomach has dropped and you feel like you really need a minute, but you have to compose yourself. You breathe in for four seconds, hold it for four, and breathe out for four. It works a bit. By the time the crowd has stopped applauding and you’ve looked up, the ceremony is ready to continue. 

The rest of it goes by quickly. Asriel is officially crowned king and there’s a lot of cheering and camera flashes. You’re quickly wrapped up in hugs and having microphones pressed into your face, questions shouted at you about how you feel about Asriel getting the throne rather than you, questions about changes that you believe he’ll make to the Underground. 

You don’t know what to say. Everything happens so quickly that you’re just left staring at the reporters like a deer in the headlights. 

Asriel, always your savior, senses your discomfort and quickly drags you out of the room as if he wasn’t the main event. 

\-----

You’re not in the mood to mingle at the party later that night, but you put on a brave face for Asriel’s sake. 

He very obviously has many people he’s expected to talk to, but he doesn’t seem to want to leave your side. While you suspect this is mostly for your sake, you can tell that he’s also a bit nervous. He keeps reaching up to readjust his crown, an awkward and unfamiliar weight behind the tuft of fur on his forehead. 

The two of you spend most of the night on the edge of the crowd, sipping punch and munching on hors-d'oeuvres as you whisper gossip about other party guests. When it gets loud, Asriel has to lean in close, lips right by your ear as he cracks horrible jokes. You pretend that it doesn’t make you shiver every time. 

Halfway through the party, he looks at you with a grin and leans in to ask, “Wanna dance?”

You raise an eyebrow that clears says, ‘Seriously?’ 

Asriel nods, grin never wavering. You roll your eyes but set your glass down on a nearby table and take Asriel’s hand to pull him into the crowd. 

The crowd parts around you, giving you easy access to the center of the room. The song playing is slow but not too slow, and you allow yourself to lose yourself in dancing with Asriel, tuning out the rest of the room. Both of you had taken ballroom dancing the year before in the midst of your many “distraction” activities. 

You can’t believe it. You’re dancing with a king. 

When the song ends, flowing into something more slow-paced, you’re not ready to let go yet. You have to push yourself onto your toes to comfortably press your face against the fur of Asriel’s neck. You feel him freeze and you wonder if this is inappropriate in public, inappropriate for you to be touching a king like this, but he quickly winds his arms around your waist and rocks with you to the tempo. 

It’s disgustingly sweet. If it was anybody else, you’d gag. 

But since it’s Asriel, you just try to forget that fact for now.

\-----

The departure of Asgore and Toriel is more teary of an event than you care to admit. 

You’d expected Asriel to cry. He’s always been a crybaby and he’s not afraid to show it. He openly hugs his parents and they promise again and again that they’ll return to visit soon. 

When you finally hug Toriel goodbye, you don’t want to let go. 

She seems to sense this and lovingly strokes your hair, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Please take care of Asriel, child,” she murmurs.

“I will,” you promise, the words muffled by the way you’d pressed your face against the monster’s shoulder. “... Mom.” 

She doesn’t tense up or gasp or act in any way surprised. Instead, she just smiles at you and doesn’t blink when you reach up to swipe away the tears forming in your eyes.

Saying goodbye to Asgore doesn’t go much better. 

“You will call if you need anything, yes?” he asks as you hug him, forcing yourself onto your toes to even be able to wrap your arms around his neck. 

“Of course,” you mutter, rolling your eyes, though your voice is choked. You’re still crying and you hate yourself for it. 

When they’re gone and you’re alone with Asriel, sniffling and trying to stop the traitorous tears from falling, you shoot him a look and hiss, “Don’t say anything.”

He smiles and wraps an arm around you. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”


	10. Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a lot longer than the others have been, and that's for two main reasons: (1) it's a pivotal plot-point that Chara's character development has been building up to and (2) it was my favorite to write, haha. 
> 
> Chapter warnings: **violence.**

**19.**

You knew that there was another human in the Underground. Of course you knew- Toriel and Asgore had called Asriel immediately after the human forced their way out of the Ruins and took off through the Underground. By now, most of the nation had heard about the new human’s presence. 

That didn’t stop you from being surprised when you actually saw them in person, though. 

Asriel had a meeting with the mayor of Waterfall today, so you’d agreed to run some legal papers to Snowdin for him. You’d spent the better part of the morning on the River Person’s ferry, bundled up in a parka and shivering as they sang and hummed absently. Needless to say, by the time you dropped off the documents, you were ready to get back to the warmth of New Home. 

But something stops you on the way back to the ferry pickup. 

You recognize the sound of fighting before you even break the treeline. It makes you pick up your pace a bit, suddenly more conscious of the weight of the switchblade tucked into your boot (Asriel didn’t like the thought of you with a knife, but he’d recognized it as necessary protection for when you’re off on your own). 

You get through the trees and your breath stops when you catch sight of the human mid-battle. 

Their SOUL floats, exposed, right in front of their chest as they hack at a Snowdrake with what looks to be a toy knife. It’s a bright cyan, and it only seems to burn brighter as the human deals one last blow to the monster. 

You watch as its SOUL splits in half and it shatters into dust.

The human stands still, watching the spot where the monster had stood. It gives you the chance to examine them more thoroughly. They’re short, and you assume they must be young. They have curly blonde hair and they’re wearing clothes that definitely aren’t suitable for how cold it is. 

There’s a red ribbon tied into a bow laying in the snow a few feet behind them. You figure it probably fell off of them during the fight. You take a step forward to pick it up, but freeze. 

It’s been nine years since you’ve seen another human, but there’s still a sinking feeling of disgust uncoiling in your stomach at the sight of this one. 

You thought maybe your hatred for the human race had dissipated a little over time, but apparently not. Your hand itches to grab the knife in your boot and challenge the other human to a fight right here, right now. 

But you can’t do that. Asriel would never forgive you for it. 

(Plus, you’re the king’s advisor. You represent him. If you killed someone in cold blood, it wouldn’t reflect well on the Dreemurr name.)

You contemplate just turning and going the other way, but the human turns towards you before you can make a decision. They immediately freeze, eyes the same color as their SOUL widening as they stare up at you, hand clutching the toy knife raising just slightly in defense. 

You hold up your hands to signal that you’re not here to fight, though it’s the last thing you want to do right now. Your SOUL burns with determination. You know you could take this human in a fight. 

But that’s not what you’re here to do. 

The human seems to realize this and they tuck the knife into the pocket of their shorts. Their hands move quickly and it takes you a second to realize that they’re signing. You miss what they said and you motion for them to repeat themselves. 

_’You’re a human,’_ they sign. They’re still looking at you with wide-eyed wonder and a hint of fear. 

You nod. While you would like to fight this human, you know that you need to be civil. You have to represent the Dreemurrs well. _’My name is Chara,'_ you sign. At their blank look, you realize that they (obviously) don’t know your sign for your name, so you spell it out. _’C-H-A-R-A.’_

They repeat the sign for your name. _’Chara.’_ They don’t tell you their name, instead slowly signing, _’Are you lost too?’_

You stare at the human. So they are trying to get back to the surface, then. 

Toriel had told you that she invited them to stay. Offered them a home. While you knew that that was just who Toriel was, it stung a bit. 

_’No,’_ you sign confidently. _’I have a home here.’_ You don’t mention your royal status. 

They just stare at you, so you lean down to pick up their fallen ribbon. When you do so, they make a squeaking sound before snatching it roughly out of your hand. Their fingernails scrape against your skin and you bite back your hiss of pain and settle on shooting the human a dirty look as they fasten the ribbon back into their hair. 

“Jeez, kid,” you mutter aloud. They look up at your words, so they can obviously hear. “It’s just a ribbon.” 

They give you a panicked look. _’If you’re cuter, monsters won’t hit you as hard,’_ they tell you matter-of-factly. 

Your heart flutters for a second. A flicker of emotion for this human child. 

You shove it deep down in your chest. You simply give them a nod of acknowledgement for their words before walking past them and heading towards where the River Person is waiting. 

They don’t follow. 

\-----

You don’t tell Asriel about your meeting with the human, but he can tell that something has shaken you when he sees you later that night. He asks you if you’re alright, and he doesn’t pry when you force out a lie. 

Asriel receives a message saying that the captain of the Royal Guard wants to talk to him, so he heads to his throne room with you in tow. You protest, saying that you have no reason to be there, but Asriel quiets you with a look that you’ve gotten used to seeing. _’I want you there.’_

You stand by his throne as Undyne lets herself into the room, kneeling down before the king and keeping her gaze on the ground. You hate it. She used to teach you piano, and now she’s forced to treat you as someone higher-up than her. 

“Your highness,” she starts. You can see Asriel shift uncomfortably; he’s still not used to the title after a year. Undyne stands but keeps her hands clasped behind her back. “We need to address the issue of the fallen human.” 

Panic shoots through you before you realize that she’s speaking of the other human. It’s been years since that title has been used to describe you, but you’re still used to it. 

Asriel makes a noncommittal noise, his expression steeling. Oh boy. 

“There is no issue to be addressed,” he replies, voice giving nothing away. His formal tone makes your skin crawl. “I have no qualms with the human.” 

Undyne’s gaze flickers over to you before returning to Asriel, as if she’s worried about offending you with whatever she has to say. She should know that you don’t associate yourself with other humans at this point; nothing she could say would offend you. 

“Your majesty, the human intends to return to the surface.” When Asriel doesn’t say anything, the captain shifts in discomfort. “They are on their way here to cross the barrier. They will want to fight you so that they can… so that they can take your SOUL to cross the barrier.” She spits the words out with disgust, looking uncomfortable.

This is the first you’d heard of this. Even though it’s just hear-say at this point, it makes you panic. You look at Asriel, opening your mouth to speak when you see that he’s still calm and maintaining a neutral expression. 

He should be outraged! He’s worth the lives of all human beings combined. 

You really should have fought the human when you had the chance. 

“Then I will fight them if it comes to that. I know how to hold my own in a battle,” he tells Undyne. It’s a blatant lie and you all know it. Asriel has been trained in combat, sure, but he couldn’t hurt a fly. 

If Asriel has to fight the human, he won’t kill them. He’ll chat and try to spare them but if they’re really determined to return to the surface, they won’t hesitate to take advantage of his MERCY and kill him. 

And you won’t let that happen. 

“No,” you say. Asriel and Undyne both look at you in surprise, as if they’d forgotten your presence. “I don’t even want them in the capital. Undyne, take care of them.” 

“Chara,” Asriel says sharply, warningly. 

Undyne looks nervously at the king before returning your stare. “I mean, uh- if that’s what you want, I can totally take them down. No problem.” 

You nod. “Yes. Collect their SOUL.” 

“ _Chara,_ ” Asriel repeats, rising to his feet. Despite his tone, you don’t flinch. You’re adamant about this. You won’t let Asriel be in danger. 

You look back to Undyne. “We need seven to break the barrier, right? This will be the first.” 

“Chara, _leave_.”

Asriel’s tone and words startle you and you look back to him. You’re surprised to find him looking genuinely angry- something you haven’t seen much in your life. 

“Wh-what?” you ask. “Asri, I’m just trying to do what’s best. It’d work better for all of us if Undyne just got rid of the kid-” 

“You don’t make the rules, Chara!” he interrupts you, taking a step forward as he snarls out the words. This time you do flinch, though it only angers you and you rock forward on your toes. Your lip draws back in a snarl. 

He senses your anger but doesn’t appear to want to fight with you. He steps back, lowering his voice as he mutters, “Leave, Chara. I won’t tell you again.” 

You hate it. Hate Asriel giving you orders. 

But you know that technically, legally, he can, and so you oblige. 

You spend the evening at a bar in the capital. You can’t get drunk; monster alcohol doesn’t have an effect on humans. You still drink an abundance, though, and pretend that it makes you feel better. 

It’s late when you return to New Home. Asriel is already asleep- the two of you had moved into the king-sized bed in Toriel and Asgore’s room- and you quietly change into your pajamas before climbing into bed with him. 

You’re still mad at him, and scared that he’s still mad at you, so you don’t press yourself against him. He half-wakes up though, and rolls over until you’re laying right next to each other. When you don’t say anything, he presses his lips against your forehead. 

“Sorry for yelling, Char,” he murmurs, lips brushing gently over your forehead over and over again. 

You want to tell him that it’s fine, tell him that you’re sorry as well, but you’re still angry with him and with yourself, so you just mutter, “It’s whatever.” 

Asriel isn’t put off by this. He still wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer. One of his floppy ears tickles your face, and you frown at it in the dark. 

“I love you, Chara,” he tells you, like he always does. It somehow sounds more important tonight, though, like maybe he thought you were doubting it. 

“I know.” You don’t return the sentiment, but you press your lips against his chin. You know he knows what you mean. 

_I love you, Asriel. And I’m not going to let you get hurt._

\-----

You don’t regret it, even when Asriel is bent over the toilet and dispelling the contents of his stomach. You gently pat his back, ask if he needs anything, and pretend that you didn’t put buttercups in his tea this morning. 

You help Asriel back into bed, running around the house and the castle kitchen to fetch things for him. You’re hurried, as you have no idea when the human will be here. You just know that you’re going to have to fight them, since Asriel is obviously unfit to do so. 

What a shame.

Asriel gives you an apologetic look as you place an icepack on his head. “Sorry you have to take care of me,” he murmurs. His voice comes out strained- he’s obviously in pain- and you feel a twinge of guilt. You hadn’t put much in, because you’d seen what it’d done to Asgore all those years ago and Asriel was far smaller than him. It’d been a gamble; you could have killed Asriel just by doing that. 

But you know it was for the best. You’re protecting him the way he’s always tried to do for you. 

“Don’t worry about it, _King_ Asriel,” you tease. “Anything for _his majesty._ ” 

Asriel rolls his eyes before going into a coughing fit. You rub his back throughout it, and when he can breathe again, he forces out, “Don’t… don’t do that.”

You laugh, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “‘m gonna go shoot arrows in the garden. Call my phone if you need anything.” 

Panic shoots through his eyes. “Char, the- the human’s not supposed to be here today, right?” 

They are, but you sure aren’t going to tell him that. He’d probably be forcing himself out of bed in a heartbeat. 

“Nah,” you lie. “That’s tomorrow. You’ll be better by then.” _Probably._

Asriel doesn’t look fully convinced, but he nods anyways and shuts his eyes. “Be safe,” he murmurs. 

“Always,” you reply. You shut the door quietly behind you before high-tailing it for the kitchen. 

You tuck knives into every part of your outfit where a knife can fit. You’d worn a cloak with lots of pockets specifically for that purpose. 

The human is in the throne room by the time you make it there. 

They look surprised to see you. The door to the rest of the castle slams shut behind you and you tuck your hands casually into your pockets as you stroll forward. 

_’Chara,’_ they say, remembering your sign from the day before. _’What are you doing here?’_

You eye them up. Their bow is still in place, their toy knife clutched tightly in their right hand. They’re a little scraped up, a bit more worse for wear than they were the day before. Obviously some monsters had taken it into their hands to try to keep the human away from Asriel. 

You stop in front of them. You can see the exact moment they recognize the dead, emotionless look in your eyes. Panic seems to shoot through them. 

“Taking your worthless life,” you snarl before ripping a knife out of your cloak and swiping at them, effectively bringing their SOUL out and into a battle. 

The room fades to black around you. Your SOUL floats in front of your chest and so does theirs, and you can see their panic as they hurriedly step backwards to get away from your range. They shakily raise their toy knife. 

You’d prepared for that. You don’t need to be close. You send a knife flying in their direction. 

They make a yelping sound as they try to dodge it. They don’t fully succeed, and it scrapes their arm, ripping a tear in their shirt. You can see their health bar lower. 

You take a moment to examine the stats floating in the air. Their name is Fennek, if you’re reading the backwards writing correctly. 

_’Why are you doing this?!’_ they sign quickly, staring at you in horror. You feel your lips curl up into a smile. Your SOUL enjoys the feeling of being in a fight. 

You roll your eyes. “Don’t you know that it’s pointless to ACT?” you ask before sending another knife through the air. 

This one gets them in the leg. They make a pained noise, but it also seems to give them determination, for they’ve crossed the space between the two of you in the blink of an eye and they’re jabbing the toy knife against your throat before you have the chance to understand what’s going on. 

For being made of plastic, that thing hurts. It winds you, at least, and they used enough force that you’re sure it pierced the skin. 

It only drives you further, though, the pain making you see red as you reach for another knife. 

This time when you attack, close-up, they’re ready for your attack. They block your move with their own knife, catching you off guard. They twist their wrist in a way that makes you drop your knife, and you swear out loud as they drop their toy to pick up your real knife. 

They brandish the weapon as they step back, holding it in front of them as a warning. With their free hand, they sign, _’You don’t have to do this. I don’t want to fight you. I want to fight the king. He’s a monster. It doesn’t matter if he dies.’_

You know, rationally, that this human doesn’t know Asriel and so can’t reasonably know how great he is, how untrue their statement is. Still, it infuriates you, anger curling in your chest. The red of your SOUL glows. 

You step closer to them. “Can’t you see, _Fennek_?” you spit. They flinch at your use of their name. You lean in close. 

_”You’re the real monster here.”_

They gasp and it gives you a chance to swipe at them again. You get them in the side and expect it to take them down, but they retaliate, bringing their knife down and slicing your arm. 

You hiss and your grip on the knife loosens just a bit, but you don’t let it deter you too much. You have to win this. For Asriel. 

But when his face flashes in your mind, you can’t bring yourself to attack the human again. 

_He wouldn’t want this,_ the rational part of your brain tells you. _Asriel wouldn’t want you to kill another human._

You look at Fennek, who’s panting and clutching at their side. A blossom of red has sprung up on their shirt. They’re glaring, icy blue eyes piercing through you. 

But more than anything, they look terrified. 

They’re just a kid. A human kid. They didn’t want this. They’re just trying to get home. 

_But Asriel…_

… would want you to do the right thing. 

You take a step back. You let your knife clatter to the ground (never mind that you still have a dozen tucked away). 

You can see the words appear in front of the other human. 

**CHARA is sparing you.**

They look startled, watching you apprehensively as if it’s a trap, but after a moment, they drop their weapon as well. The color fades back into the room around you and your respective SOULs return to your chests. 

As soon as they’re out of the battle, Fennek falls to their knees. They’re still grabbing at their side, and though you caused it, you don’t really feel bad. 

You step towards them. “Human,” you say. Their head snaps up, fear blooming in their eyes again. You hold your hands up. You take a deep breath, composing yourself. 

“I’ll let you live on the condition that you do not attempt to fight Asr- King Dreemurr,” you correct quickly. “You won’t be able to leave the Underground, but I’m sure there’s some place down here that you can take up residence.” 

They don’t look so sure, but they nod slowly. When you don’t take your adamant stare off of them, they shakily rise to their feet, glancing towards the door. 

You step closer. They flinch. 

Your voice lowers. “If you ever return to the capital, I won’t be so merciful.” 

They don’t need any more warning. They nod before running out the door. 

You stare at the knives littered around the room. 

Did you make the right decision?

\-----

You have to tell Asriel, of course. The whole story. Including the fact that you poisoned him. 

He’s so quiet that for a moment, you think that he’s really going to be done with you this time. That he’s going to dismiss you from the royal family. That you’re going to be off on your own, all alone. 

But then he looks at you, to where you’re kneeling next to him on the bed, and lightly says, “Why did you spare them?”

It’s an honest question, asked out of curiosity. You can tell. 

“I couldn’t disappoint you like that,” you answer honestly. 

There’s a long pause before Asriel replies, “But you can _literally poison_ me?” 

You’re glad to hear the humor in his voice. It startles a laugh out of you. 

You curl up next to him, only now realizing that you’ve been shaking. Asriel is still sick and weak so he doesn’t actively reply, but he rests his chin against your head. 

You draw in a deep breath. You’re sure that the two of you will talk more about this tomorrow, when Asriel isn’t sick and you’re not so drained. The battle really took a toll on your SOUL.

But for now, you need to sleep. 

“I love you, Asriel,” you murmur. 

You can tell he’s smiling. 

“I know.”


	11. Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: **self-poisoning, suicidal ideation, referenced suicide attempt, referenced past child abuse, self-loathing.**

**20.**

“Dr. Alphys.” 

Your voice cuts through the laboratory, startling the monster from where she was sitting at her desk, some anime playing on her computer. She hurriedly sits up, hitting the spacebar on her keyboard to pause her show as she pushes herself to her feet. 

“O-oh, Chara!” she stutters, face going red as she frantically smoothes out her lab coat. You walk further into the lab, boots clicking loudly against the floor. “I-I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”

“I took the ferry,” you mutter as an explanation. One hand shoves your wind-mussed hair out of your face as the other tucks into the pocket of your jacket.

“O-oh, right. Of course.” Alphys looks around awkwardly. “Uh, would you like to sit? O-or, should I make some tea, or-” 

“Dr. Alphys,” you interrupt, “if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to skip the pleasantries.” 

“O-oh, yes, s-sorry, of course.” She stares at you for a moment. “S-so, there was something you wanted to talk to me about, or…?”

Oh. Right.

You take a deep breath. “I was wondering what you know about the determination of human SOULs.” 

There’s a moment of silence. Alphys blinks at you. Then she nods, hurrying over to her desk and pulling a drawer out of a filing cabinet. “U-uh, well, there hasn’t really been a lot of research-” 

“I know that Dr. Gaster collected information when he studied my SOUL. You still have his work, right?” 

Alphys’ head snaps up, and she flinches at the mention of Gaster. Most people- the ones who still remember him- usually react that way. Talking of Gaster has become taboo ever since people started to realize that they start to feel like they’re being watched whenever they mention him. 

The monster looks back down at the files in her hands nervously. “W-well, y-yes, I do, b-but that’s not really public information…” 

You shift your weight onto one foot, placing your hand on your lip. Alphys shrinks under your stare. “It _is_ within the jurisdiction of the royal family to collect any of the Royal Scientist’s research, correct?”

The words are a gamble, because you really don’t know _if_ that’s within your jurisdiction. But, to your relief, Alphys shoots you a panicked glance before slowly nodding and making her way over to you to hand you the files.

As you flip through the notes within, eyes scanning Gaster’s chicken-scratch handwriting, you quietly prompt, “So, determination…?” 

“A-ah yes. Determination.” Alphys wrings her wrists nervously. “The force that powers a human SOUL to persist after death.” 

“Which monster SOULs lack,” you continue, glancing up to confirm this. 

Alphys nods. “Y-yes. Monsters lack the physical matter to be able to house determination.” 

You make a noise of recognition, closing the file. You’re mentally cursing Gaster; his files don’t tell you anything you didn’t already know. He always kept most of his information in his head. 

Your fingers are shaking just slightly, your stomach churning, but you take a deep breath and force out, “Determination… it’s the thing that makes human SOULs so powerful, right? That’s why they can be used to break the barrier.”

Alphys cringes at the mention of the barrier. You don’t blame her; with you as the royal advisor and Fennek now living in Hotland (you’d heard that they’d gotten a job working for Mettaton), it’s considered rude to mention human SOULs’ correlation to the barrier.

But that’s why you’re here. The Underground is in a state of unrest. The monsters are tired of waiting for answers, and they’re taking that out on Asriel. 

“Th-that’s correct,” Alphys confirms hesitantly. She pushes up her glasses, likely just for something to do, and you wonder what’s going through her head right now. She’s obviously nervous talking about this subject. 

Even bringing this up is risky. If Alphys were to go over your head, tell Asriel that you were asking her about this, he’d be furious with you. He’d made it clear when you were fourteen that he had no interest in sacrificing you for the sake of the Underground. 

But it kills you to see the hopeless look in his eyes whenever some monster brings up escaping to the surface. 

“Hypothetically,” you start, mentally cringing at how un-hypothetical this is going to sound, “if you were to extract determination from a human SOUL and distribute it into monster SOULs, would that make them more powerful?” 

Alphys blinks at you. That was obviously not where she saw this conversation going. 

She starts to wring her wrists again, claws scraping nervously against her scales. She doesn’t meet your gaze as she murmurs, “W-well, in theory, if the human was determined enough, then that could be distributed-” 

“Would it make the monster SOULs powerful enough to break the barrier?”

Her head snaps up. “I-I’m not so sure about that… There would be a possibility, but we don’t know how the SOULs would be able to handle-” 

“I want you to use my SOUL to extract determination.” 

Alphys freezes. You try to silently do your deep breathing to keep yourself from freaking out. 

_In for four, hold for four, out for four._

“I-I’m not sure you understand what you’re asking me here…” Alphys mutters. She hurries over to her computer, minimizing her show and pulling up some sort of calculator. Her fingers fly across the keyboard, inputting data. “Even if this were to work, the effects it would have on your body and SOUL… wouldn’t be good. Taking your determination would take a lot out of you.” 

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut and breathing in deeply. This isn’t anything that you didn’t expect. 

“I’m willing to take that risk.” 

Alphys pauses, reading whatever she’s looking at on her computer. “A-and, th-there’s a chance that you wouldn’t… Th-that this could kill you.” 

You nod again. You’d been ready for that risk.

“Whatever it takes.”

\-----

The first extraction of your determination isn’t bad. 

You’re surprised by the True Lab underneath Alphys’ main lab, but you don’t let it show. You recognize some of Gaster’s work scattered about, including in the DT Extractor. 

It’s scary at first, a loud, whirring machine around you with blinking lights and hard vibrations. But you just compare it to how getting an MRI looks in the movies you’ve seen. It’s over in just a few minutes, and you don’t feel any different. 

Alphys assures you that she’s been asking for the SOULs of monsters who have… “fallen down.” She tells you that she’ll start injecting your determination into them to make them stronger. 

When you return to Asriel that night (he thinks that you’ve been letting Alphys study your SOUL as Gaster used to do), you snuggle close to him in bed and tell him that everything is going to be better for him soon. 

\-----

The second extraction doesn’t go as well. 

The process itself is simple, and not as scary now that you know to expect the volume and lights. You feel fine until you stand up. 

And then you end up getting a sharp pain all the way from your sternum down to your pelvic bone and you’re falling to the floor, doubling over and releasing the contents of your stomach into a small trash can. 

Alphys is apologizing loudly as you throw up, fretting frantically as she mutters something about how the force on your SOUL can hurt your body as well. You’re in too much pain to care.

When you go home, you force a smile for Asriel. He makes dinner, but your stomach aches too much to eat it. You drink a glass of gingerale and swallow a handful of painkillers that you keep around for when you get phantom pains in your leg. 

You go to bed early and tell Asriel not to worry. 

\-----

“Chara, you don’t look so good.”

“‘m fine,” you mutter, though even speaking jostles your chest and adds to the aching. 

You’d gotten the third extraction done this morning, and you’re in _hell_.

You’re lying on the bed, a pillow underneath your hips. Your shirt is discarded somewhere across the room, your binder folded up a few inches so that you can hold an ice pack to the dip in your sternum in hopes of relieving some of the aching. 

Asriel kneels next to you, the mattress dipping under his weight. The worry is clear in his eyes, and you hate it. You’re doing this in hopes of making Asriel’s life less stressful, not more. 

He reaches out slowly and traces his fingers lightly over your ribs. You can’t help it; you cringe, as even that light of a touch sends pain flying up your chest. 

You haven’t eaten in a week now, as your stomach rejects any attempts to put food into it. You’d gotten angry at Alphys about it this morning, though it really wasn’t anything that she didn’t warn you about. Your body is tearing itself apart from the inside because of what you’re putting your SOUL through. 

The SOUL isn’t supposed to leave the body other than during a fight, Alphys had told you. Forcefully tearing the determination out of it took its toll, and your SOUL was punishing your body for it. 

Asriel shrinks back. “I’m calling a doctor,” he mutters, moving to get off the bed. 

“No!” you shout, a bit too loud. You move quickly to grab his arm to stop him, and a pained cry forces its way through your lips at the sudden movement. 

“Chara!” Asriel hovers over you as you draw your knees up to your chest, ice pack falling away as you clutch at your stomach, tears prickling at your eyes. Your lungs _burn_ , each breath feeling like a chore. 

“Let me see,” the king murmurs, climbing back on the bed. He tries to gently pry your hands away and it takes a while before you uncoil, leaving yourself bare as you slowly roll onto your back. 

Asriel prods gently at where you’d been holding the ice, fingers skirting along the bottom of your binder. It hurts but you choke back the pained noises threatening to give you away. 

He looks up to check if he’s hurting you, and you force a pained smile. 

Asriel sighs. “You need help, Chara. You need to tell me what’s wrong so I can help you.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you lie, gritting your teeth when Asriel applies a little more force, gently massaging the dip in your chest. It hurts but it also relieves the pain a bit, like massaging a sore muscle.

The pain keeps you from sleeping that night. Every time you start to drift off, agony shoots through you and you have to bite your fist to keep from crying out in pain and waking Asriel. 

It’s all worth it, you tell yourself. It’ll all be worth it in the end. 

\-----

The determination isn’t working. 

“It’s not enough,” Alphys tells you regretfully the next week. “The SOULs only last for a few hours more after death, and then they’re gone.” 

You nod, gripping the armrests of the chair you’ve collapsed into. It hurts to stand for too long nowadays. Coming to Alphys’ lab is the first you’ve really moved all week. You’re too weak to even play your violin or shoot arrows in the garden. 

“Take more,” you order. 

Alphys looks at you in surprise. She’d likely expected that you’d be giving up. But you can’t. Not now. 

“Th-that… would be very risky. You’re already so weak…” 

“I’m already dying, Alphys,” you snap. She flinches. 

But it’s nothing that you didn’t already know. You can’t possibly have that much time left. You wake up every morning throwing up despite having nothing but stomach acid and water in you. You’re paler than ever, your ribs protruding badly enough that you can see them when you wear thin shirts. 

You’ve taken to wearing several sweaters at once. 

“You might as well just take the rest. Make my life worth something.” 

The scientist looks hesitant, as if she’s going to reassure you that your life already _is_ worth something. But in the end, she just nods and helps you to the DT Extractor.

You lose consciousness after this extraction. When you wake up, you’ve vomited blood. 

You assure Alphys that you’re fine. 

\------

“Asri,” you say, voice small. Weak. It hurts to talk too much nowadays, after five weeks of extracting determination. 

The king looks up from where he was pouring over notes at his desk. You’re sure if you asked he’d tell you it was legal stuff, but you know that he’s been researching any and all human illnesses in desperate hopes of trying to find what’s wrong with you. Every doctor in the Underground has been in to see you as well as Toriel, and nobody has been able to help you without pinpointing the cause of your sickness. 

“Chara,” he says worriedly, brows knitting together. “Why are you out of bed? You should have called if you needed something.” 

Asriel looks older than you’d ever seen him, as if your illness has aged him. Your chest aches, this time out of guilt rather than your chronic pain. 

“I want to go to Waterfall,” you tell him. “I want to see the Wishing Cave.” _... one last time,_ goes unspoken. 

Asriel frowns, standing up and approaching you. You’re leaning on the doorway because it’s difficult for you to stand on your own for too long, and when Asriel comes close, you lean against him instead. He lets you, resting his chin on your head. 

“Char, you’re too sick,” he murmurs, sounding apologetic. “It’s too dangerous.” 

One of your hands clutches desperately at the front of his black sweater as you press your face against it, choking back tears. “Please,” you whisper, so small that you’re not sure if you actually said it outloud. 

Asriel freezes. 

You know he hates seeing you like this. So weak, so desperate. 

After a moment, he murmurs, “Alright.” 

\-----

The trip to Waterfall is difficult, even taking the ferry. The cold is rough against your weak body, even bundled up in your parka and scarf. Asriel keeps one arm wrapped around you as you sit in the back of the boat, your face pressed against the warmth of his fur. 

You’re relieved by the time you finally make it to the cave and you can sit down. Asriel had packed blankets, and you practically collapse onto the pile of them once they’re placed down. There are no snacks this time, since you’d never be able to stomach them.

It’s occurred to you that you’re not going to live long enough to see the surface again. Alphys almost has enough determination to sustain seven monster SOULs, and hopefully that will make them strong enough to break the barrier once you’re gone. 

These are the last stars you’re going to see, and they’re not even real stars. 

You pull your knees up to your chest as you stare up at the ceiling of the cavern. Asriel sits close, leaning against you. 

“Asriel, can you-” Your words break off as you fall into a coughing fit. You end up doubling over, hands over your mouth as you struggle to try and get oxygen. Asriel rubs your back, and when you’re done coughing, he pulls a cloth out of his bag to wipe the blood away from your hands and mouth. “Fuck,” you mutter, taking a swig of the water bottle he hands you. 

You clear your throat. “Can you show me the SOUL trick?” 

He looks surprised. It’s been years since you’ve been so fascinated by monster magic that you had to ask. 

After a moment, he nods, shifting to sit on his knees in front of you. You readjust how you’re sitting, folding your legs underneath you to give Asriel easy access to your chest. 

His fingers glow a soft purple as they sweep in the air in front of your chest. You feel a slight tugging, as gentle as someone pulling lightly at your hair, and your SOUL is pulled out of your chest. 

Asriel is the first to gasp. You’re too shocked to react, instead just staring at the weakened state of your SOUL. 

You hadn’t expected the determination extractions to affect its physical appearance, but apparently you were wrong. Your SOUL has faded from its vibrant red to a diluted pink, and an unmistakable crack runs down the center, almost splitting it in half. 

You don’t have much time left. 

“Chara,” Asriel says,voice shaking. You glance up; he’s staring at you in horror. “What did you _do_?” 

Of course he knows. Asriel is too bright for it to escape him that you brought this upon yourself; if you really did just have some illness, it wouldn’t affect your SOUL like this. Human SOULs persist even after death.

Well, with determination they do. And yours doesn’t have much left.

The projection of your SOUL disappears as Asriel scrambles back, climbing to his feet to pace back and forth without waiting for your response. He tugs his hands through his fur, and you startle when you see tears forming in his dark eyes.

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

You stare up at him as you brace yourself on your hands. “Asri, this is for the best.”

“ _How_ , Chara?!” he shouts, turning to face you. He doesn’t bother to hide his tears or the shaking of his voice, and you flinch at his volume. “I don’t even know what you did, but I can already tell you that it’s _not_ for the best!” 

This frustrates you. If only he knew.

You want to stand up as well, so at least you’ll be on a level playing field, but you know you’re too weak to do so without assistance. 

“Even if it means that the monsters can finally make it to the surface?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady as you raise an eyebrow at the king.

Asriel pauses. 

“Wh-what?” he asks, chest heaving. 

You try to smile up at him, but your chest is aching and you’re sure it comes out more as a grimace. 

“Asriel,” you start, “what if I told you that I’d found a way to make monster SOULs strong enough to break the barrier?” 

A handful of emotions flash across Asriel’s face before he’s falling to his knees in front of you, raising a shaky paw to cup your cheek. “I don’t… It’s not worth it if you won’t be there to cross the barrier with me, Chara.” 

You’d prepared for this conversation. You’d been ready to have it on your deathbed. And each time you’d run through it in your head, Asriel had said something like that. 

You’d prepared your response. You just can’t bring yourself to say it. 

When you feel tears stinging at your eyes, you shake your head rapidly, jostling Asriel’s hand off your face. He just brings it back up, thumb stroking your cheek. “D-don’t,” you mutter, voice sounding choked. You stare at Asriel’s locket because you can’t meet his eyes. 

_Don’t make this harder than it needs to be._

“Chara,” he says. 

You cough again, and Asriel freezes, looking ready to help you if needed, but this time you’re just trying to clear your throat and steel yourself. You lift your head and stare at the glistening rocks in the ceiling, trying to keep Asriel from seeing your tears.

“You… you know what my wish is, Asriel?” you ask. 

“Chara-” 

“My wish is for you to be happy. And that won’t happen when you’re still trapped underground. When your kingdom is still trapped underground.” You meet his eyes, though your stomach churns when you see how heartbroken he looks. “If I can do something to make you happy, I will.” 

Asriel stares at you for a long time. And then he laughs, a cold, humorless sound that sends shivers down your spine at how unfamiliar it is to you. 

“Don’t you get it, Chara? I _am_ happy. With you. You’re _all_ I need, Char. And if I have to stay underground to stay with you, then I will. Every time.” 

_No, no, no, Asriel, you’re wrong, you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong, I’m worthless I’m pointless I need to do this for you-_

“I-” _I can’t._

Asriel moves closer to you, hand falling away from your face so that he can clasp you on the shoulders. “Listen to me, Chara.” 

_Stupid Chara stupid stupid stupid you’re always so stupid you’ve always been weak why can’t you just make yourself worth something for once-_

Asriel’s eyes burn into yours. You’re shaking. 

“I love you. You’re my whole world. And that’s never going to change.” 

_Asriel can do so much better. He deserves so much better._

“We can get through this together, alright? You don’t have to do this. I don’t want you to do this.” 

_It doesn’t matter you’re going to die anyways-_

“Let me help you. It’s not too late.” 

_You were finally going to do something good with your life-_

The room is spinning. 

“B-but you-” You finally find the voice to speak and your body rejects your attempts. Your throat feels like it’s closing up. Asriel doesn’t interrupt you, waiting patiently. His eyes give nothing away. “You wouldn’t have me forever anyways, Asri. I’m getting older. You’re not.”

It’s true. Asriel has reached the age where Boss Monsters stop aging unless they have kids. 

And unless there’s someone else in the picture, you doubt Asriel will be having kids any time soon. 

It’s just another reason for you to do this. Get it over with now while you’re still useful. Otherwise, you’re just going to grow old and decay while Asriel stays young and beautiful. 

Asriel shakes his head. His hands don’t move from your shoulders. 

“There are ways around that, Char. Magic. We can do something.”

You try to steady your breathing. You’re just now realizing that you’ve been digging your fingernails into the soft skin of the back of your hand and you’ve drawn a bit of blood. 

“You want to know my wish, Chara?”

You stare at him. You have to swallow back the tears forcing their way up, the screams in your chest trying to crawl up your throat. After a long pause, you nod shakily. 

Asriel gives you the smallest smile. “I want you to stay by my side forever, Char. My right hand.” 

Deep breath. In. Hold. Out. In. Hold. Out. 

You wind your arms around Asriel’s waist and fall against him. His hands move from your shoulders to rub circles on your back. 

“You…” Your voice is still so weak. Still so reflective of how you fucked up. “Do you remember coming to see me in the infirmary when I first fell down here?”

You feel him shifting curiously from where your head is pressed against his shoulder. “You mean when you glared daggers at me until I left?” You can hear the humor in his voice despite the humorless situation. 

You make a small sound. “After that.”

Asriel nods. “I brought you a sketchbook so you’d have something to do.” 

“Yeah.” You take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of Asriel. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why’d you do something so nice for me when… when I was so horrible?”

Asriel taps lightly on your back, signalling for you to pull back. You do so, meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow.

“Because you’re not horrible,” he answers simply, smiling. 

Despite how choked up you are, how unsettled, you snort in surprise and roll your eyes. “Alright. Sure.” 

Asriel’s eyebrows draw together, but his smile doesn’t disappear. “It’s true. I could tell.” 

You move your hands away from his back, trailing them up to his face. You tug lightly at his ears. “How?”

He taps your nose. “I could see it in your eyes.” 

Your eyes. Your red eyes that, up to that point, had only been your downfall. They’d been the reason you got screamed at, hit, pushed around. Held down. Choked. It was always blamed on you, always your fault, always because you had red eyes that made you look too creepy, too unnerving. _”Nobody could ever love someone with eyes like those.”_ _”You fucking freak.”_

Those had been the thing to draw Asriel to you?

You’re quivering so hard that your teeth start to chatter. You choke on a sob as it forces its way up your throat.

It’s hard to breath, so you just stop trying. 

You fall forward against Asriel and don’t move until you lose consciousness from hyperventilation. 

\-----

The next day, you tell Alphys that you’re done. 

You can’t help but notice that she looks relieved.

\-----

Recovery is somehow worse than extracting determination had been. 

As the symptoms start to wear off, you force yourself to eat more. Asriel writes out a meal plan for you and is adamant about you sticking to it. It involves a lot of protein and iron and vitamin C. 

When you’re strong enough to stand on your feet again, you make Asriel spar with you in the garden. Alphys had explained to you that battling would exercise your SOUL and help build back the determination that had been taken from it. 

But Asriel isn’t much of a fighter, especially when he’s going easy on you because he doesn’t trust that you know your limits. So you battle against Undyne as well. And honestly, she kicks your ass, and she does it with a grin and a laugh. 

You and Asriel discuss the barrier, though the conversation is always tense. He assures you that a time will come eventually. That, after some time, a human will come around who’s truly horrible. Whose SOUL can be taken without remorse. 

You still find yourself surprised that that wasn’t you. 

Nightmares come and go, dreams of your SOUL splitting in two. Just like when you were younger, you wake up in a cold sweat and can’t calm yourself down until Asriel assures you that you’re here, that you’re real.

You take a medication that Toriel cooks up for you. It’s supposed to repair your body from where it had been tearing itself apart from the inside. It only ends up making you more sick, many nights spent curled up on the bathroom floor, but Toriel assures you that it’s working its way through you. 

The Underground is still riled up. Still hoping and praying for some way to break the barrier. You and Asriel go public with your statements of hope for the future.

(After said press conference, you eat dinner at the MTT Resort restaurant. Tabloid pictures of the two of you are posted all over the next day, headlines of _The King and His Right Hand._ )

You throw yourself into activities, just like when you were seventeen and trying to force back murderous urges. You spend more time studying the legal aspects of the Underground in hopes of becoming a better advisor. You read up on magic and human magicians and wonder if someday you’d be able to undo what those seven did during the war. 

Thoughts still come and go. Thoughts of how you’d be better off dead, about how you shouldn’t have abandoned your work with Alphys. Thoughts of how weak and useless you are. 

At some point, you stop needing Asriel to reassure you. You just start to do it yourself.

\-----

“Do you think that people have the power to change who they inherently done? Overwrite their pasts? To better themselves?” 

In your peripheral vision, you can see Asriel looking up. You keep your gaze cast downwards, eyes unfocused in the direction of where your fingers are playing with the yellow flowers beneath you. 

“I think that anybody can improve themselves, if that’s what they want,” Asriel muses, shrugging. He bumps a shoulder against yours. “Why?” 

You think of the blood-stained hands of a ten-year-old child who was forced to grow up too soon. Of the sounds of rain boots cluttering against a mountain trail as that child ran, emotionless, the wind howling in their ears loud enough to block out their thoughts. They hadn’t regretted their decision to get rid of those who had hurt them so badly. But they were running because the situation was otherwise unescapable. 

And then you think of the same ten year old, broken and helpless as a savior came for them. Asked their name in a kind voice. Brought them into his home. Gave them a life. 

Showed them a purpose.

You realize that Asriel is still waiting for an answer, so you shoot him a smile and hand him a flower. He takes it with a grin. 

“Just wondering.” 

You clutch at your locket, where the same picture is tucked neatly inside. You wonder if that same Chara, the one who was twelve and unsure of themselves and had to be tickled before they could smile for a picture, would expect themselves to change. 

You drop your head against Asriel’s shoulder with a smile. 

Your hope for the future fills you with determination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading. Writing this was a wild ride and I'm really glad that I finally got to develop how I believe Chara would act if they actually lived. I hope that you all enjoyed the fic, and thank you so much for your continued support!


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